Edelweiß
by Arlia'Devi
Summary: When Italy finds a baby on the doorstep of Germany's home, he manages to convince his partner to adopt the baby into their "odd-ball" family. But little does Italy know how hard it really is to raise a baby, and the adventure will push both Italy & Germany to their limits. A story of unplanned parenthood and all the craziness, misery and happiness that comes with it. [GERITA]
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or any of the characters. Rights go to Hidekazu Himaruya and distribution, publishing, and broadcasting associates. I make no money from this.

**Edelweiß**

By Arlia'Devi

**Chapter One:**

"I'll be back a little later tonight," said Germany as Prussia picked up his luggage and began throwing it into the back of his brother's Volkswagen. Italy nodded and adjusted his coat. It was cold in Germany today, and he was not ever used to the cold. "I won't be home until dinner. Make whatever you want."

"Pasta?"

Germany nodded. "Ja. Whatever you feel like is fine with me."

"Ve," Italy kissed his boyfriend on the cheek. "Drive safely. All the roads are wet. Don't rush to get home."

Germany nodded solemnly and kissed Italy back.

"Have a good weekend, Gilbert!" Italy called to the former nation, who had thrown down the boot lid on the Volkswagen. "See you soon."

Prussia waved back to Italy, thanking him, before going to say goodbye to the three dogs that bounded at the gate.

"Ja, can you take the dogs for a walk before it gets too dark?" asked Germany. "Just around the track."

Italy nodded. He often loved taking Germany's dogs for their walks, and they often did it together. A while ago, Germany had found that he could incorporate the nations training into the daily dog walking, and that made it easier for him to command Italy to do anything that was remotely physically exhausting.

"Get going now," Italy said. "Hurry – otherwise you'll be late."

Germany nodded and grabbed the keys. Trudging out to the car, he sat into the driver's seat and started up the car. Italy watched from the house as his German partner began driving slowly along the wet road of his long driveway. His home was a short drive from Berlin, in the country where it was quiet and reclusive and allowed him to relax. Italy chuckled as he went to grab the dog's chains. Who knew the German liked to relax every now and again?

Appearing in the backyard with the dog chains, Blackie, Aster and Berlitz began to yelp and jump back and forth in excitement. Italy laughed and began to fasten the chains around Berlitz neck – he was the only one Germany always wanted on the chain: the dog was still a puppy and had been belligerent to be trained. Aster, meanwhile, was a placid female who was happy to wander ahead a little, and Blackie was technically Prussia's considerably older and well behaved. Berlitz, however, still had the energetic spark of a puppy. Italy kicked open the gate and headed out into the sleeting, cold afternoon. The dogs barked as Aster ran forward and tried to catch a duck that was waddling around the icy-cold fish pond. The duck managed to flee, without as much as a lost feather.

Italy took the dogs for a walk around the yards that Germany owned as a part of his manor. Germany's home was around an hour from his capital, and Italy remembered the days he'd run from his home, through Switzerland (dodging Switzerland's aim), and sneaking into Germany's home. Now he had his own key, often slept over many nights a week, and stayed some weekends when he and Germany didn't have much work to do – like this weekend, save for Prussia going away for a night.

He called Blackie back into view as the dogs walked around the track they knew like the back of their paws. The dog came trotting back into view. Italy huffed as a cold wind billowed over his body in the wintery Germany. He wished the dogs could have gone for a walk tomorrow, but Germany walked his dogs everyday – rain or shine, sleet or snow and he would have known when he got home if the dogs had been walked or not. If they were acting out and hyperactive, he'd realise they didn't get their daily exercise. It was best for Italy to grin and bear the cold and hope that the dogs wore themselves out soon.

Italy approached the house again and entered the backyard. He quickly pulled the chains from the dogs and filled up their water bucket before going back inside. He started working on the fire in the den – banking some wood around some kindle and setting it alight.

Italy checked the clock. It was too early to start dinner, especially when Germany didn't know what time he would be back on account of the bad road conditions. He sighed and padded around the house. He went to Germany's bookshelf but was disheartened when everything was in German. He let the dogs inside for a little while and they settled in the den, happily resting in front of the fire.

Italy sighed and fell into the chair, resting with the dogs. It was a little past four and he felt a familiar warm feeling rush through his blood, and allowed his eyes droop. Slowly, he began to fall asleep. Ah, the siesta was an Italian past time, and why not wind down after a day of hard work? Italy smiled drowsily. He always enjoyed sleeping in Germany's house, especially when said German wasn't around to berate his laziness. Italy shifted comfortably as Aster jumped up onto the lounge and rested his chin on the Italian's lap.

Italy slipped into a light sleep as he killed time. It was a wonderful sleep. He scratched Aster's head and jaw and snored softly. He dreamt about something wonderful – the summer and taking a swim in the river near his Italian home, and trying to egg the ever-uptight German to take off his swimming trunks and swim nude like him while laughing at his spluttering excuses and flushed red face. He'd do it though, always, but only when Italy had convinced him a million times that no one would see him, and no one was around and that he'd seen it all before anyways… That German was so conservative.

Italy awoke an hour later when the cuckoo clock did it's little show, indicating it was 6pm. Stretching and ushering Aster off the lounge and down to sit on the worn rug with her companions, Italy made his way into the kitchen and began prepping to make the pasta. Germany had once bought him dried pasta as a substitute, because making pasta from scratch was such a lengthy process. Italy had gotten severely offended, and subsequently had drunk two bottles of wine and locked himself in the bathroom for most of the night. The following morning, Germany nursed his hangover and apologised for not realising. He put it down to 'cultural ignorance'.

Italy supposed, as he kneaded the dough for the pasta, they really shouldn't have worked as well as they did. He was a carefree, food-loving full-fledged Italian man, who liked to go out and drink wine and flirt with the ladies. His German half, however, was a hard worker, who rarely went out and when he did, consumed copious amounts of beer and either passed out or picked fights with his brother.

But for some reason, they worked. They balanced each other out. It was strange. Sometimes, opposites attracted. Italy began to whistle as he fed the mixture through the pasta machine, flattening it into sheets for the lasagne. Germany 's favourite was lasagne, because Italy would make a cabbage salad side and the one thing Germany loved more than potatoes was cabbage. Italy laughed. Sometimes he loved some of the weirdest stuff.

He began to sear off the mince, adding some pepper and spices to it when, in the den, the dogs began to bark loudly, running towards the door. Italy frowned and turned down the heat. Was that Germany home already? He'd only been gone two hours, and it was a one hour drive both ways. He usually heard the car coming down the wet driveway, or saw the headlights reflected on the walls of the lounge.

Italy dried his hands and went to the door.

"Puppies!" he scolded as the dogs whimpered and barked softly at the door. "Stop!" The dogs continued to fuss. "Oh," Italy muttered. "What does Germany say to them…," he bit his lip. "Ah! Puppies! _Ferse_!"

Aster whimpered and backed off, and Blackie sat down on the floor, but Berlitz, always the disobedient one, continued to paw at the door, whimpering and making strange noises. With a huff, Italy dragged the dogs out the back door and into the back yard, where they instantly ran around to the side gate and continued to bark. What had them so riled up? Usually it was a wild animal – like a rabbit or a deer.

Italy went to the door, hitching it open to see what all the fuss was about. He hoped Germany would come home soon – it was billowing out there wicked cold win and it looked like it even might start snowing soon.

Italy opened the door, unlocking its bolt and throwing it open.

Instantly, cries hit his ears. Over the howling of the dogs, he heard something crying and slinked out of the door and onto the small cement patio. There, on the bottom step of the German's house was a small basket. Along the side of the house he could see Berlitz's nose poking out through the fence, barking at the strange object.

Italy approached the crying basket. _No. It can't be... _

'A _baby_?' he thought. No, it couldn't have been. Who would leave a baby out in this cold.

Gingerly, Italy picked up the cane basket. It was covered in small white blankets and a little body shifted underneath them. Carefully, Italy peeled off the blankets to reveal a small, red face.

"Oh no…," Italy welled up as the baby began to cry. It was cold and hungry and left out here. Who would do something like that to a little bebè? It was tiny and defenceless. "Poor little one," he cooed, frantically scanning around for someone. Germany's home was covered in a thick layer of blinding snow, save for the dug out driveway. Further past his yard was thick forestry. The baby began to squawk in Italy's arms. "Hush now, I'll take care of you."

Carefully, he cradled the baby and brought it inside – out of the cold, and rested the basket by the fire in the den. Carefully, he picked the baby up in its blankets and rested it on his shoulder. It was so little and cold and defenceless. He tried to soothe the baby and it began to quieten down. With a sniffle, Italy began to cry.

"Oh little baby," he murmured against the cold fabric of its yellow jumpsuit. "Who abandons a little baby out here…?" The baby sniffled and made a small noise. Italy continued to weep gently, rocking the baby back and forth in front of the fire place.

"Oh," he sniffed on his sleeve. "What will Germany say?"

The baby only gurgled in response.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Look out for the next chapter in the next few weeks! I'm not too sold on the title of this story, and am worried it's a little cliche, so if anyone has any suggestions about it, shoot!

I'd really love your feedback if you'd like to read more!

~Arlia'Devi


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two **

Italy put the baby onto the floor, watching it kick as it began to cry softly. The dogs were at the glass door to the den and were watching with acute curiosity. Italy shifted. What did he do?

The baby was small and young with blue eyes and cold, flushed cheeks. It was wearing a yellow jumpsuit with soiled booties. For a moment, it stopped crying and whimpered softly, snivelling and kicking it's feet around. Italy wondered how old it was – it didn't look very old.

"Oh, poor little thing," he sniffed, wiping his tears on his sleeve.

With shaking fingers, he began to undo the baby's jumpsuit, sliding it off its body and pushing it to the side. Italy blinked as the baby squirmed – not cold, as the fire warmed it's sensitive skin, but on account of being uncomfortable. It made a strange sound in the back of it's throat.

Italy blinked as he ran his finger over the small lump on the baby's belly button – it still had its cord stump. How old were they when they lost these? Italy knew not very old. He began to untie the fabric nappy the baby wore, throwing it on top of the jumpsuit before taking the baby into the kitchen.

"Bath time always makes me feel warm after playing outside," he muttered and drew a lukewarm bath in the small sink. Carefully he bathed the baby's skin in only water, washing it over its tiny chest and over the top of its soft head. "A pretty little girl." He gave the baby an over-animated smile as she began to fuss in the water.

The baby squirmed as Italy pulled her out, wrapping her in one of the blankets that lined her basket before playing her back in it and taking the soiled clothes. He added a small amount of detergent to the bath and began washing the garments quickly, before wringing them out and rushing to the back of the house. He turned on the dryer and threw in the clothes as in the den, the baby began to cry. Feliciano checked the time – it was almost half past seven. He swallowed thickly. Germany would be home soon. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?

Italy whimpered as the baby began to cry by the fireplace.

"Oh baby, hush now," he muttered, picking her up awkwardly. He needed to get back to making dinner. He brought the baby's basket into the kitchen and set it on the dining table and went back to work on the lasagne. The baby calmed down to a small whimper as the Italian finished off his lasagne and put it in the oven to cut.

"You have to be good when Ludwig gets home," he advised the baby gently as he hastily cut up a cabbage on the chopping board. He yelped when he sliced across his finger and the baby began to cry again.

"Oh no, sweetie," Italy cried, running to stop the bleeding with a tissue. "I'm alright – I was just being silly. See, I'm fine?" he offered the baby a funny face, which only made her cry harder.

Italy went to grab a Band-Aid from the counter and tapped his finger before putting the cabbage in a saucepan and beginning to sauté it off. The baby quietened down as she watched Italy in the kitchen.

"Ve, you're very alert for someone your age," he commented as he seasoned the cabbage. The baby sucked on its fingers momentarily.

It was a little past seven o'clock when Italy heard his lover's car come up the driveway and saw his headlights reflect on the walls. The dogs began to yip excitedly and that upset the baby, who had been quiet and calm in her basket on the kitchen table.

"Oh no, baby," hushed Italy. "That's just Germany. Don't worry about him. He won't hurt you – not a little baby like you! Maybe me… but we'll see!" he picked up the baby's basket and hurried upstairs. "But come now; we have to hide you… at least until I can figure out a way to tell him."

Feliciano was caring for the baby upstairs when Germany entered the door. He unlocked the front door and was greeted by the smell of cabbage. That must mean Italy had cooked a lasagne. The thought of the meal warmed Germany as he hung up his coat and scarf. It was bitterly cold outside and had begun to snow.

He looking around for his Italian partner, but wasn't able to locate him. He was able to locate, however, the large mess in the kitchen that had not been cleaned up. _Typical Italy._

"Feliciano!" He called.

The response was hesitant. "Ah! Okay, Germany. I'll be down in a minute."

Germany frowned. "What are you doing up there?" he looked at the lasagne cooking in the oven. "How long has this lasagne been in the oven for, Italien?"

"It should nearly be done," Italy said breathlessly as he came down from upstairs. "I took the dogs for a walk. Sorry," he puffed. "How were the roads?"

"We had to go a longer way because a tree came down on the other side of Berlin – just off the highway."

"B-beer?" Italy offered Germany nervously.

"Ja, thank you," he said, noticing his partner's edginess. He cracked the beer and downed a few large gulps before wiping his mouth on the back of his mouth. "Are you all right, Feliciano? Is something wrong?"

Italy nodded. "Maybe you should sit down, Ludwig."

"Eh?" he said, sitting at the dinette setting. "What is the matter?"

The timer to the dryer went off and caught Germany's attention. "Have you been washing? Was that the dryer?"

Italy shook his head. "Don't worry about that," he murmured, pouring himself a glass of wine from a moderately pricey bottle. "We've known each other for a long time, huh?"

"Ja?" Germany said nervously. "Is this going somewhere, Feliciano? What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not trying to say anything, Ludwig," he shook his head. He sighed and swished his red wine around the glass. "I love you so much."

"_Feliciano_-," Germany said lowly. He tightened his grip on his beer. "Whatever you have to say, just say it. Don't say things like _that_."

"Please don't get mad. It's not my fault, but please just wait there," Italy said. He downed the rest of his wine in record time before leaving the empty glass on the servery. Germany watched as he left the kitchen, but stayed seated at the small dinette setting they used for casual dinners – there was a larger dining room off the kitchen, but they rarely used it.

There was some movement upstairs. Perhaps he heard Italy speaking, but he couldn't be sure. The man often muttered to himself. Germany felt his throat go dry, so he took another sip of beer before going to turn off the oven. Shit. What was happening tonight? Was Italy leaving? His hands began to shake. No.

"Feliciano?" Germany called up the stairs. He tried to make his voice tender.

"Just wait!" he called frantically. "Eh! Don't come up. Go in the kitchen!"

The German did as he was told, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. His brain ran backwards, trying to wonder what he'd done previously for this reaction. He'd only left the man alone for three hours. He heard Italy's feet come down the stairs, creaking as they did so.

"Hey, Germany," called Italy. "Come here. Just… don't get mad, okay?"

Germany took a deep breath. Don't get mad? What was he supposed to mean by that? Just exactly what had Italy done? Usually when he promised the German not to get upset, he'd done something that had made him very upset – like accidentally spilling wine on his vintage copy of Jules Verne's Journey to the Centre of the Earth: his favourite fiction of all time.

He entered the foyer, where Italy was waiting. He was smiling watery, holding something in his hands. The something was wrapped in a few blankets, and kicked once.

"Scheiße." Germany stumbled backwards.

"Ludwig, please," Italy pleaded, stepping back.

"Is that a _baby_?" he seethed.

Italy began to cry, which unnerved the baby. "I found her out on the porch! I took the dogs for a walk, and then had a quick siesta – when I woke up, she was on your doorstep!"

Germany had walked away, his hand running through his slicked back gelled hair. His hands were still shaking.

"You believe me, don't you, Germany?" Italy pleaded. "Please believe me! She doesn't have anyone!"

"We can't keep it, Italy!" Germany shot back. The baby began to cry softly.

"The baby's a girl," he said. "She's a little girl."

"We have to give it back. It has to go."

"She has no one to go to – no one wants her. She would have died if I didn't bring her in!" Italy said. Germany pushed past him again and fell into a chair in the den. Italy watched as his partner stared at the fire, silently. Italy didn't dare move from his spot and soothed the tiny girl.

"We can't keep her!"

"Why not?!" Italy cried, rocking the baby back and forth.

"She's not ours! How is it supposed to work between us with a child? It would be a joke! Two men raising a baby!"

"We could give her a family," Italy pleaded. "I want to, Germany, please. We could be happy together, I know we could."

"The answer is 'no', Feliciano," snarled Germany and the tone cut him to the core. Italy batted the tears from his eyes and fell into the lounge, rocking the crying baby gently. She settled down after a moment as Germany left the room – probably to calm down. When he returned, he was visibly calmer.

"I'm sorry for yelling," he said gently. "Feliciano, look at me," the Italian man didn't, but Germany continued anyway. "We can't keep her. We have to take her somewhere she can get given the family she needs. It's not right for us to-,"

"I love you so much Ludwig," Italy said with a harsh whisper. "But what you're telling me now, it's killing me."

The German man swallowed thickly.

"How old is she?" Germany said eventually.

"I don't know," Italy replied. "Not very old. She's still got that cord stump. It hasn't fallen off."

He watched as Germany looked at the clock – it was almost eight o'clock. Without a word, he rose and grabbed the car keys. Italy's heart jumped into his throat.

"Where are you going?" he asked, tailing the German as he went to the front door. "Please, Germany, don't leave me!"

"I'm not leaving," he said levelly, looking over his shoulder at his Italian partner. "I'm going into the town for some formula. She needs to be fed."

Italy nodded, looking down to the girl's small face. "I love you, Ludwig," he murmured tenderly. "I love you so much – you know that right?"

The heavy wooden door closed as Italy looked up. Germany stalked through the sleet and snow toward his car. Italy watched from the window as the Volkswagen backed out of the long driveway towards the closet village.

Italy looked down to the baby and touched her cheek with a finger – a gentle caress. "I know he loves me," he whispered gently. "He just needs to cool down."

Thanks to those people who reviewed last week. I've written a few chapters for this story so expect some regular updates.

Reviews take 30 seconds and really make my day! I love to read them, so please take a moment to jot down your thoughts.

See you all soon!

~ **Arlia'Devi**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

There were so many choices. So many fucking choices. He didn't know a single thing about this and he hated himself for it. Ready-to-use, liquid concentrated, powder, protein-plus, cows-milk, soy-milk, lactose-free, hydrolysed formula… what was the difference? Which one was better than the other? God, he felt like Switzerland analysing the products on the shelves so precisely. He grabbed what he perceived to be the easiest – the premixed formula and threw it in the basket along with a bag of nappies, and a bottle.

His basket seemed too bare. What if he needed something else? What else did babies need?

There were toys on the other side of the aisle. He didn't want to buy the baby a toy. That was saying something he didn't want to say.

And what was his brother supposed to say? What would he do when he found out? Germany shook his head and went to the counter.

The drive home through the sleet was slow. The porch light was on for him and Germany pulled up to his manor, for once, not wanting to go inside. He didn't bother digging the keys from his pocket – Italy always left the door unlocked, so he entered unhindered.

Germany found his partner in the den, sitting in his armchair with the baby silently in his arms. Italy looked up to Germany. There were soft tears dripping from his eyes as the little girl sat quietly in his arms, sucking on a finger. He didn't understand. Weren't babies supposed to cry all the time - day and night? Why was this one so quiet.

"Is she all right?" Germany asked. His throat felt dry and raspy.

Italy nodded and gave a watery smile. "She's alright. Just hungry and tired. She keeps dropping off to sleep, and then starts crying. Did you get-?"

"Ja," he said, getting the product from the bag. "I don't know how – ah, there's instructions," he said flatly. "I'll be back in a moment."

Italy nodded, rocking the baby back and forth gently as she looked up at him with drowsy blue eyes. Around his finger, she suckled softly, being soothed by the sensation. She had a small tuft of feathery blonde hair, and chubby red cheeks. Her eyelashes were small and delicate. Sometimes her hand would move to hit Italy's, and then fall back down again, as if she didn't have the strength to keep it up for long. It was cute.

Germany came back into the den then, offering Italy a bottle. "It said open and serve."

"I'll see if she'll take it," said Italy, wiping his nose on his sleeve. When he reclaimed his finger, the baby began to fuss until the nipple of the bottle was placed at her lips.

"Look," Italy smiled as she began to suck and swallow eagerly. He laughed a little as the baby began to eat. Germany sighed and sat down on the ottoman near the armchair, watching as Italy felt the infant.

"We can't keep her," Germany said lowly, seriously.

Italy didn't respond.

"We'll give her to the village pastor. Someone will adopt her."

"Why can't _we_ adopt her?" Italy shot back, glancing up to look at his partner. Germany sighed.

"It's too complicated," Germany replied.

"I don't see how," he muttered, watching the baby drink the formula drowsily. "She's so quiet. She hardly makes a sound. I thought babies cried all day and all night."

"There's a storm coming in. A big one," said Germany, drawing the curtains. "There are lots of trees coming down around Berlin. But on Monday we'll go into the village, and if the church won't take her, then we'll travel into an orphanage in the city. She'll be placed in a family."

Italy wiped some tears away from his face and sniffed onto his sleeve.

"I don't know why someone would abandon her…," he wept gently. "Why does someone leave a baby? Did they even love her?"

Germany didn't reply. He watched the fireplace. Eventually he got up, only to add another log to the fire, and then sat back down again. The baby finished the bottle and Italy pressed her to his chest and patted his back gently.

"Burping," he explained gently. "Poor little bebè. So she sleeps soundly."

Germany watched silently as the baby was burped, then wrapped into a blanket like some sort of wrap from Greece. The baby seemed to like the constriction, however, because she didn't begin to cry or fuss. Italy looked to Germany.

"Do you want to hold her?"

He shook his head. "No."

Italy made a face Germany didn't like. "Fine."

Germany got up then. "I'm going for a shower," he said gently. Italy nodded.

The smaller nation sighed and sat down with the infant, lulling her to sleep. It didn't take long, and the baby fell asleep after fifteen minutes of gentle rocking and walking. Italy placed the baby back into her basket and rested it in the study behind the den – somewhere warm, but quiet and close, before going into the powder room and washing his face. By the time he reappeared, Germany was in the kitchen. His hair was still a little damp and fell over his eyes. He wore a jumper and a pair of casual pants.

When Italy entered the kitchen, Germany looked at him silently. Without a word, Italy slid between Germany's chest and the counter and gingerly slicked back the fallen hair into his normal hairstyle. He looked so wearied and distraught – he looked vulnerable and Italy kissed his collarbone. He almost cried out in relief when his stoic German lover caressed the base of his spine with the smallest of touches.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, realising the lasagne was still in the oven. The cabbage was ruined and cold, but the pasta was salvageable.

"Was it all just a dream?" he asked gently. "That baby? Did I imagine that?"

Italy shook his head. "No," he admitted. "She's sleeping in your study."

"I-,"

Italy pressed his fingers to Germany's lips. "We'll talk later. I want to eat now, and drink a bit more."

The Italian slipped from his embrace and went to retrieve the lasagne from the oven, slicing it up and serving it on a small plate. Germany ate the cold cabbage, stating the dish was the same hot or cold. Italy laughed and poured another glass of wine. For a moment, they sat at the casual dinette setting and ate in silence.

They'd finished their meal and there was the awkward clanking of cutlery on empty dishes and Italy left the plates in the sink. Germany was about to rebuke, but he couldn't have been bothered. He was exhausted and the mess would be there tomorrow.

"Let's talk in the den," said Italy gently, filling up his glass once more. "Ludwig, please…"

The two went out to the den, sitting and watching the glowing fire for a moment. Italy rested against Germany's arm, ghosting his finger over his knuckles. He took small sips of wine, savouring the taste for a second.

"I know we can't keep her," Italy said gently. "I know that , Ludwig… it doesn't stop me from wanting to, though."

"She belongs with a family," he replied. "Two men can't have children."

"Why not?" he retorted gently. "What if we're better than a man and a lady family? What if we could give her a better life?"

"It's not just that, Feliciano," replied Germany. "She's a human infant. We can't… it wouldn't work out. We are not human."

Italy sighed and sipped on his wine. "We can keep her for the weekend?" he asked gingerly.

"Ja," Ludwig said gently. "I suppose if the roads are closed, we have to. Bruder will be back tomorrow night. Just don't get attached to her, all right Feliciano?"

Italy nodded. "All right." He looked up to his partner. "We've been together a while. We've never talked about babies…"

Germany got up from the seat and walked off. "It was never an option. That's why we never spoke of it. I'm going to bed now, Italy – are you coming?"

Hiding the hurt and shock that claimed him with such a definitive statement, Italy asked, "Do I bring her up with me? To your room?"

Germany stopped for a moment and looked into the dark room of his study. "Ja, I suppose."

Italy nodded. "I'll be up in a while. I'll finish my wine first."

"Ja. Guten nacht, then."

Italy finished his wine and re-corked the bottle. He'd drunk half of it, and should have been feeling the lulling effects, but wasn't. He took the baby from the dark study, and she began to fuss and cry. Doubting Germany wouldn't have heard the outburst; Italy quickly changed the baby and fed her, and did his best to rock her back to sleep. But the baby was belligerent and Italy was tired and he sat in one of the dining chairs, with low lights and used the tip of his foot to balance the chair, rocking it back and forth. Slowly the baby drifted back off to sleep, and too scared to move for a moment, Italy stayed still. He didn't recall the moment when he'd fallen asleep, but Germany had descended the stairs again and touched his shoulder. He sprung awake.

"What – Ludwig, I-?"

"You fell asleep down here. Come to bed," said the German. "It's late."

"How late?"

"After two."

"Eh," he looked at the baby. "She wouldn't fall asleep. It wasn't as easy as last time."

"You can't leave it down here. Put it in it's basket and come upstairs."

Italy nodded and placed the baby in the blankets – like it was sleeping in a sort of dog basket and brought it upstairs. Gingerly he placed it on the floor beside his side of the bed. It looked so strange. What if the baby rolled over and fell out? He didn't have time to think about that. The light was switched off and Italy was pulled against a warm, muscled body. Hot breath touched his neck and slowly he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Thanks to those people who reviewed the last chapter! Your time means a lot to me and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. "Don't get attached, Feliciano," - possibly famous last words from our favorite German? We'll see!

Please take the time to leave a review before you go!

~ **Arlia'Devi**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Italy was awake when Germany awoke the following morning, startling the older nation when he stepped out into the living quarters. The fire was burning gently in the hearth and the room was warm. From the door, the dogs whimpered and yawned in the cold winter morning. Italy held the baby in his arms, smiling and cooing and making funny faces in Germany's armchair. Italy wasn't paying attention to whatever early German morning news show was on. Germany noticed Italy's dishevelled appearance and made himself known by stepping into the den. The dogs perked up a little at the door.

"How long have you been awake for?" he asked, fixing the buckle on his belt. He grabbed his coat from the stand and buttoned it down, before rolling up the sleeves.

Italy looked up from the baby. His amber eyes were open, and they were warm. "Ve, what's the time?"

"Almost seven."

"Two and a half hours, then," he hummed. "I got up for a glass of water and she started fussing. I didn't want her to start crying and wake you up, so I took her out here. I think I took a quick nap though, when she was eating."

The baby made a whimpering sound and thrashed her arms about. Germany watched as his partner laughed and cooed at the baby, who made louder sounds. The dogs were sitting curiously by the screen door, watching the show.

"I made breakfast," Italy said as the baby settled down. Germany was pulling on his boots. "Are you going to eat it before you take the dogs for a walk? If you're going to get lost in the blizzard, at least I'll know it was on a full stomach."

Germany gave the Italian a poignant look and the younger man laughed. "Ja. I am. Coffee?"

"Thank you."

"Tell me if my _bruder_ rings while I'm out," he called as he filled the kettle and put it on the stove. There were electric kettles available in the shops, but he preferred the old ways - like sitting near a fire out in the battlefield and boiling water in a tin cup. Sometimes the old ways were the better ways.

"Of course," Italy said, coming into the kitchen. He had the baby slung over his watched as it was playing with his hair in tiny little slobbery fistfuls. Thankfully, his sensitive curl was on the other side. Germany watched as Italy laughed, then winced at a hard tug, then laughed again.

"The baby has to go back. Tomorrow is Monday."

"I know, Ludwig," he said gently. "She's so happy with us."

"It would be happy with anyone who fed it." Germany grabbed the coffee out of the cupboard.

Italy pouted. "Are you comparing the baby to a dog?"

"Nein," Germany protested, slightly shocked. "I said don't get too attached, Feliciano."

He shook his head. "We didn't even talk last night. You just went to bed. I… I want to talk, Germany. _Really_ talk."

The German knew it had been coming. The way he'd been looking at the baby this morning, he knew his partner would get attached to it. Couldn't he see that giving it back was the only way? Countries weren't meant to have children.

"We'll speak after I walk the dogs."

"She'll be asleep by then," Italy said, nodding. He carefully took a sip of his coffee and hummed in appreciation. "Promise?"

"Ja. I promise," Germany sighed. Italy was big on swearing promises, so he knew that if he didn't deliver on the promise, the Italian would harp at him until they actually did talk about this.

But what was there to talk about? They couldn't keep this baby. The thought was absurd!

He sat down and finished his breakfast as Italy put the baby back in her basket and came to the table to finish his coffee. Wordlessly he watched as Germany ate his breakfast. A few strands from his fringe fell over his face where he hadn't used enough product. Italy laughed at the German's face and expression. With that hairstyle he looked so cute and maybe not all that intimidating. It was like a special kind of Germany he only got to see when he woke up and he was still tired and a little bit drowsy and his voice was husky and sexy. A special Germany just for him.

"How was Berlitz yesterday?"

"He pulled. It made my wrist hurt," Italy admitted.

"Hm. We'll work on that."

"I'm sure he'll get it eventually, Germany," said Italy. "But all the other puppies were fine."

"They're older. They know better."

Germany washed his dish in the sink and put it on the drying rack before pushing his hair out of his eyes. Italy laughed and approached him, running his fingertips under the water and styling back the German's blonde hair, mixing the product so it spread further. His fingers brushed over Germany's temples, so he straightened out his eyebrows as well, giggling. He caressed his cheeks next – the high cheek bones that were tinted with the slightest red, then along his strong jawline.

"Ve," he said gently, kissing his partner on the mouth briefly. He couldn't resist – what an image of brawn. "Much better."

"Quite finished?" said the German patiently, eye-rolling at the display.

Italy laughed and smoothed his hands down Germany's sides, feeling the taut obliques and felt his lover respond to the touch slightly. Something sparked in Italy's eyes. Could be make his German avert from his precious work-out routine? Was a horny Italian more powerful than sleet, snow and gale force winds? As if suddenly shattering the moment between them, the baby in the den made a strange shriek and Germany turned his head towards the sound, stalking out into the lounge room. He looked at the dogs who were thankfully still watching by the screen door. The baby had kicked off her blanket and was making a great fuss over nothing it seemed. Germany grunted. Italy tended to it.

"Go upstairs with it while I go out to the dogs," said Germany. "Berlitz might push his way through."

Italy nodded and picked the baby off, covering her again in a little blanket as Germany left. The dogs jumped back and yelped frantically at their master, suddenly more excited by the daily walk than of the strange thing sitting in the den. He grabbed the chains from the wall and after tying them to his dogs, set out down the muddy, snowy path.

Italy sighed and calmed the baby down, letting her cling to his shoulder. She was now wide awake and looking around.

"Curious baby," Italy laughed. "Curious baby wants to see the world, huh? Don't worry about Mr. Germany, he's always cranky. Let's go look at his house. Maybe we can find some fun things to do."

He and the baby went to the room behind the living area.

"This is the study," he said. "This is where Mr. Germany does most of his work. Look at all that paperwork, baby." There was a large amount of paperwork on the desk. "Mr. Germany's boss sure does keep him busy. Let's go upstairs."

They ascended the staircase. The baby began to play with Italy's hair again. "We can't go downstairs because that's where Mr. Prussia lives. That's Germany's older brother. He'll be back tonight. I wonder what he'll think about you."

The baby made a strange sound to that and pounded it's fists against Italy's back. Italy felt something wet and warm on his shoulder - the baby must have been drooling into his shirt. His expensive Italian shirt. Italy laughed. For some reason, he didn't seem to care.

"This is Germany's room," said Italy. He made his way over to the made-up King-sized bed and placed the baby on the duvet before lying down next to her. "This is where I sleep when I come over. It's pretty plain. Germany likes it that way; but the bed is comfortable."

They came to the bathroom next. It was spotless, with towels hung up and laundry in the basket. The doors to the small patio were closed, but when Roderich had lived here, in the spring, the garden would have beautiful, fragrant gardens to gaze upon. On the silver tray between the shower and the bathtub, Germany had left his shampoo bottle open. Italy smelt it. It smelt like mint. Maybe it was Prussia's. It didn't seem like something Germany would use.

"This is the bathroom baby," said Italy. "Not much happens in here… Except for bubble baths, but Germany hates those!" He nuzzled the baby's shoulder. "You like baths!"

Germany had a lot of spare rooms, and yet, his brother chose to live in the basement. Italy wondered why. The baby slowly began to stop fidgeting and wriggled in Italy's arms. He made his way back down to the den again and sat the baby in his lap, watching her movements. She began to rub her face and yawn.

"Are you tired again?" Italy wondered. In fact, he was a little tired himself. He'd been up early and taken care of her, and had been up late last night. Italy yawned. "Maybe it will be all right if we take a siesta together, baby. Just until Germany gets home." He yawned and gathered the baby into his arms, patting her gently. He couldn't tell who fell asleep first: himself or the baby.

He awoke suddenly with the sounds of dogs barking and noticed the baby sleeping in his arms quietly. It had been forty-five minutes and Germany was coming back from his walk. Italy put the baby back into her basket as the German came in the sliding door. The dogs were lapping at their watering dish outside. He didn't say anything as he entered. The baby was sleeping. He hung his coat by the rack.

"She sleeps a lot," Italy said. "I looked on the internet that you should just let them sleep however they want when they're so young."

Germany nodded. "It's quiet when she sleeps."

"She's not that loud," Italy said. "She doesn't cry. She just wants attention."

The phone rang suddenly, rousing the baby. Italy jumped and ran to answer. The baby began to cry and fuss and Italy pointed to her and gave Germany a poignant look as if to say _'fix it –now!'. _Like a deer in the headlights, the German shook his head furiously and backed away.

"Ahh… Hallo – Germany's place!"

"Feliciano! I knew you'd be at that bastard's place," said Romano over the phone.

"Si, _fratello_ -eh, what are you ringing for? Is there something wrong?" asked Italy awkwardly trying to hold the baby and give it to Germany, who had retreated into the kitchen. Italy followed hastily, a crying baby in his arms. The German, however, was having none of it.

"Is that a baby?" Romano said over the phone. "Eh, what the fuck are you doing, Feliciano? Hey! Talk to me!"

"Ah, hold on, just let me put the TV on mute, haha," the Italian glared daggers at the German. "It's about babies being born. Let me find the remote. Hold on _fratello_-," Italy covered his hand over the receiver and hissed at the German. "Hold her! Unless you want to talk to _fratello_, just hold her!"

Germany decided on the lesser of two evils and held the baby awkwardly. She didn't stop her crying. In fact, it seemed that she was crying just that little bit louder from being taken away from Italy.

"Soothe her!" Italy whispered harshly before taking up the phone again,"_Si, pronto fratello_," he said, walking into the other room and spitting off rapid-fire Italian.

Germany looked at the baby - looked at her red little face, all screwed up in dissatisfaction. Her little fists were in balls. Her feet kicked out awkwardly, hitting him in the bicep. The German rocked her awkwardly, and like some sort of miracle the baby began to settle down a little at the sensation. Italy paused for a moment, admiring the picture.

The baby, upset that her short nap was being interrupted was having nothing of the simple rocking Germany was offering. Desperate, he tried to remember anything that soothed a baby, but it had never been something he'd bothered to learn; he'd never held a baby before. He'd never raised a kid. That was his bruder's job, or Spain, or hell, even Austria. Even if that freeloader had been around, he could have palmed the kid off to him, but he wasn't and Germany was standing in the middle of his kitchen, holding a screaming baby.

"Please stop crying," he said to her. Distraction. He needed a distraction. He spied the baby's bottle by the sink and hastily ran it under hot water, then cold again, then placing it against her lips. It didn't work.

"Shieße," he muttered. In the other room, Italy was still speaking on the phone with his brother. Darn it.

He bit off the end of a gloved finger and awkwardly made it dance in an attempt to distract the baby from something other than her apparent grumpiness. It worked slowly. The baby stopped crying, the blood drained from her face and her blue eyes began to follow the awkward dancing movements of the black leather glove. It didn't last for long, however, the baby got bored and her original problem of grumpiness, and a little hunger, came back.

"Ah, sorry," Italy said as he clicked off the phone and placing it on the dinette. "_Fratello_ wanted to discuss some stuff with me. Eh, is she alright? The phone scared her."

"Fine," Germany replied.

Italy smiled and took the baby from Germany's arms. He was glad to be rid of it. Italy handed him back his glove.

"Eh, Ludwig, you did well," Italy smiled. The baby instantly settled down in his embrace, but the German's face was stoic. "She likes you! You two make such a nice picture. Is there something wrong? Ve, don't tell me this is the first time you've held a bambino!"

Germany wanted to shake his head. He wanted to tell Italy that he wasn't like him, that this sort of stuff didn't come easily to him. That he didn't know the right things to say or the right things to do, or the right way to hold or any of that shit that just seemed to come so naturally to the Italian.

"Here," said Italy, approaching the German. "She's calmed down now. Hold her," he said, placing the baby into Germany's hands. "Sorry I panicked. Make sure you support her head. See, it's not so hard? And she can sit over your shoulder too. It's really easy. And she really likes being close to people. It makes her feel loved."

Germany held the baby awkwardly. It had a strange smell to him. Like powder and musk. The baby's feathery blonde hair tickled his forearm, where more blonde hairs stuck. Italy watched as his partner held the baby, staring at it. For a moment, he was tense, but then, the softness seemed to creep into his eyes and his shoulder's relaxed.

"Ve, can we talk now? Like you promised."

Italy took the baby from Germany's arms.

"Ja. All right."

* * *

Thank you for all the reviews! You guys are fantastic. I really hope you guys are enjoying the story so far - I know I'm having a ball writing it. Thank you and please take a moment to leave a review before you go!

~ **Arlia'Devi**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five  
**

Germany made dinner while Italy fed the baby, changed her, bathed her and finally, around eight o'clock, put her to bed. They'd decided to have their discussion tonight, and Germany wasn't really sure what to expect. When Italy walked into the kitchen with a soft smile and an inner glow, Germany stopped and stared at him for a moment while he uncorked a bottle of wine. He had to wonder why the Italian was so happy. Did it radiate from the baby?

"How long until dinner, Ludwig?" Italy asked, looking into the oven at a casserole dish. "It looks good – is it ready?"

"Ja," he said. "The tables already set."

"Great," he smiled. "I'm starving."

Germany was a good cook and when he took out the casserole the aroma of decadent apples and pork filled the air. German food was much different to Italian food, but both nations could agree they preferred each other's food over Britian's dishes. Sometimes it was nice not to have pasta for tea, Italy thought. _But only sometimes._

Germany loved apples. He loved the taste of apples and pork together. In the summer, he often enjoyed an apple cider in replace of his beer, but only on hot days where the tang was sweet and fresh - like by the stream. There was something to the cinnamon and apple combination that went so well with pork on a cold night. The two began to eat. The house was silent. Germany finished his beer, but did not go for another one. Italy realised this, and knew he was supposed to pick up his brother this evening.

"When will Prussia be picked up?"

Germany looks at his watch. "The train should get in at eight-fourty-five, but it never runs on time. He'll call."

Italy nodded. "What… what will he think?"

"About the baby?" Germany clarified.

"_Si_."

Germany shrugged. "I don't know. It has to go tomorrow anyway."

"We can talk now?" Italy asked.

Germany didn't reply and Italy stopped eating for a moment. He looked at his wine, then he looked at the small candle that was burning on their table, beside the wall. The flame flickered, making weird shadows. Germany noticed this, and watched his partner carefully.

"_Italia_-,"

"I want to keep the baby, Ludwig," said Italy quickly.

He expected the German to lash out at him, to start firing off rapid reasons why this couldn't work, but to his surprise, Germany only put down his fork and leant back on his chair, sighing.

"I know you do, Feliciano," he admitted. "It's clear."

"I know you said not to get attached," he said gently. "But I couldn't help it. I love her, and she has no one else. What if we could do this together? Is it really so wrong? We love each other – we can have a baby?" Italy smiled. "Can't we? You do love me, right?"

"Ja," Germany replied. "Of course I do, Italy, but that's not the problem here." He tried to remain tender and gentle. Losing his cool right now was not going to help the situation. Italy would probably only start to cry and that would wake the baby and then nothing would be solved between them. "How are you going to look after the baby, eh?"

"… I hoped I could with you, Ludwig," Italy said. He paused for a moment and saw the German's reaction. "I know you don't want to – I just thought that maybe you might change your mind."

"We can't raise a human child, Italy," said Germany with a sigh. He ran his hand through his hair. "The baby needs to go with a human family."

"Why?" said Italy. "What if we take her to the orphanage and she doesn't find a family? She could have one now. She could be happy with us. We could be happy together."

"If things were different…," he muttered. "Maybe. If the baby wasn't a human baby – I, I don't know, Feliciano. It's too much, I don't know."

"Maybe I thought that one day we could," he muttered. "Maybe we could get married. Maybe we could have a baby together." Italy looked at Germany's face and it made him want to cry. "I thought that… maybe we could. Didn't you ever think?"

Germany looked at his food. It was suddenly cold and tasteless and his throat was tight.

"Ja," he said eventually. He was not good at talking out his feelings. He found it embarrassing. He never found the right words to say. Italy finished his wine and looked away.

"There are no houses around for ages, Ludwig," Italy said gently, looking into his partner's eyes. "Maybe she was meant to be ours."

Germany finished his beer. The Italian continued to blabber, his eyes never moving from his meal. Germany cleared his throat loudly and Italy shut up. He looked up to Germany

"I want to make myself clear, Feliciano," said Germany seriously. "I love you, but I can't raise this baby with you. Two men cannot have a baby. Let alone a human baby. It will grow old, but we won't. It doesn't make _sense_. In a month's time, there's a world conference being hosted in Berlin. I'm too busy, Italy, I just can't-," Italy wordlessly got up from the dining table and Germany followed him. As the Italian left, he grabbed his arm and pulled him into his arms. Italy hesitated for the moment, before embracing his partner. "I just can't. Not now. I'm sorry."

He felt the wet tears of his Italian lover seep through his cotton shirt and hugged him tight. For a long time, his Italian didn't move and his form just shook and shook. Germany rested his head on his partner's head.

"She can't grow old and we never change," he whispered into Italy's hair. "A child should bury their parent at the end of life. We stay the same." He twined his fingers through Italy's. "We can do many things," he admitted. "We can live and love and desire," Italy nodded. "But we can't die. At least, not like humans. What would they say when she went to school? How would we explain it to her?"

"I don't care about all that," Italy whispered. "She doesn't have to have a normal life."

"Don't be selfish, Feliciano," Germany tipped his head up to look into his watery amber eyes. Italy sniffed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into his forehead. "Maybe one day. But not now. We'll find her a home. She'll be happy."

Italy nodded and sniffed. Germany pushed the hair from Italy's face and kissed his forehead softly. Italy loved all the kisses and hugs so it was no surprise when he rose onto the tips of his toes to encourage more kisses. They'd spaced out this weekend for relaxation and some much needed time to spend together while Prussia was away.

"You love me?" Italy whispered.

"Ja," replied Germany. "Why would I say it if I didn't mean it?"

Italy shrugged and couldn't find the words to reply. Kisses slowly became more heated, and touches became less gentle and more fevered. They made their way to the den, and Italy pushed Germany into the armchair, loosening some of the buttons on his shirt. The German's eyes were dark – like the middle of the sea, and heavy. The nimble Italian straddled his lover's body and began kissing down his neck in a clash of teeth, tongue and lips. There was a growing bulge pressing against his stomach and Italy hummed in pleasure as he slid his hand down his lover's shirt to rub the apex of his pants.

Germany groaned gently when suddenly the phone rang.

"Shieße, Italy," Germany hummed, reaching for the phone on the stand. "It's probably Prussia… Sorry." He clicked the phone on. "Hallo?"

Italy backed off a little when Germany began speaking in German. It was obviously his brother and Italy sighed, distracting himself by running his hands up and down Germany's chest and kissing his neck gently.

Germany's tone got a little more annoyed and Italy nuzzled his collarbone. He could hear Prussia on the other end, talking. Italy sighed and enjoyed the closeness while Germany spoke over the phone. After a lengthy conversation, he said goodbye and hung-up, putting the phone on the receiver.

"That was Prussia right?"

"Ja," said Germany, stretching out. "He's not coming home tonight."

Italy looked up to Germany. "He's not?"

He shook his head. "No. He's staying overnight. He's not saying where…," he shook his head, not bothering to wonder about his brother's antics. "Oh well, he can look after himself."

Italy smiled. It was always usually Germany looking out for Prussia, despite him being considerably younger than his brother.

"That's all right then, ve?" he smiled and kissed Germany gently. "We can keep going then?" He kissed his neck. He kissed his collarbone. He kissed his Adam's Apple.

A passionate kiss was Italy's answer and he made a soft yelp of pleasure and joy when Germany bit down on his lower lip. Italy sighed in Germany's arms - they were so strong, so warm and never ever let him go. His hands touched him in just the right ways and he sighed in ecstatic pleasure. Germany rumbled against Italy's neck. They'd make love down here, in his favourite armchair - that wouldn't have been the first time - and then they'd go upstairs, naked and sated, where the baby slept in the cool room in the basket it had come in.

* * *

Thanks for the reviews on this story! I'm going to update this story regularly, so make sure you 'follow' the story to make sure you're up to date. Will Germany ever come around to keeping the baby? Who knows!

Please take a moment to write a review before you go!

~**Arlia'Devi**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Italy awoke to the sun streaming through the blinds in Germany's room. He fumbled for his watch, sitting on the bedside counter and gasped when he read the time. It was already a quarter-to-ten!

Bolting upright, he realised Germany was not beside him, and had not been beside him for quite a long time. Often an early riser, he'd probably would have been up since the crack of dawn.

_Oh no no no no no_, Italy thought as he jumped out of bed. He wouldn't have, would he? The baby's basket was empty. Not without saying goodbye, surely! Italy hastily pulled on his pants, tears pricking his eyes. His German was known for his tough love, but Italy wasn't sure he could forgive him for this one.

He rushed down the stairs in a blur, trying to hurry and do up his pants at the same time. He rushed to check if Germany's car was still in the driveway. The house was so quiet he wasn't sure if –

He came to the den and stopped. Germany was sitting in his armchair, looking down at the bundle in his arms. Italy, realising Germany hadn't noticed him yet, pressed himself to the wall and watched on.

Germany held the baby on his legs, supporting her head with his big hands and looking at her, wordlessly, as if interrogating her with his eyes. By the stand was an empty bottle of formula. The baby made a happy sound and thrashed her arms around and Italy heard Germany laugh gently. His thumb ghosted over the soft hair on her head – blonde like Germany's.

He wanted to watch on, to watch the scene forever, but when Germany sighed and rubbed his eye with the ball of his palm and let out a strange sort of sound, Italy knew he was struggling. He approached him silently. Germany had his eyes closed when Italy touched his shoulder's gently.

"Good morning," he whispered tenderly with a soft smile.

"Ah!" he jumped a little, looking up at Italy, who was strangely calm. "She was awake when I woke up. I didn't want to wake you. I heard you get up last night."

"Mmm," he kissed his forehead softly. "I got up a few times. Thank you. You even fed her."

Germany's head touched Italy's stomach. Italy ran his hands through the man's hair. The baby shifted and squirmed on Germany's lap.

"She makes weird sounds when she's eating," he murmured contently.

"I know," said Italy. "I love her eyes. She looks like you, Germany." Italy laughed. "Are you sure this isn't your baby? Have you been playing up on me with a pretty woman in the villages, eh, Germany?"

He leant back with a small smile of amusement. Italy touched the baby gently, and Germany watched as the baby's eyes followed the man – like she was engrossed with him. Italy took the empty bottle into the kitchen and placed it in the sink.

"When are we leaving then?" he asked, unable to face Germany and ask the question.

"Soon," he resolved as Italy re-entered the room. He nodded and leant down by the baby. "Do you want to hold her?"

"No," Italy shook his head. "She likes it where she is."

"How do you know?"

"If she didn't, she'd cry. That's what babies do."

Germany smiled gently and Italy stood. He was in his usual heavy-duty pants and navy shirt, but he still had the thick woollen socks on, a strange sight as Germany wore his boots everywhere except the bedroom. His hair hadn't been slicked back and a few strands fell over his face. Italy always thought it looked cute. Finding his white shirt from last evening on the lounge, Italy buttoned it back on.

Germany was watching the baby – watching her strangely astute eyes, noticing her teeth-less gum. He was fascinated by her fingers and he pressed his own against them in comparison. The baby's hands were so tiny. Her little fingernails were just dots, barely anything there. The baby was so young. How did someone give her up? Why did someone leave her alone?

Italy noticed his partner's gaze, knew the deep concentration that knitted his brow. He touched his shoulders and smoothed out his hair and planted a kiss against the hairline.

"We could do this," he said gently. "Together."

"Two men can't have a child," he grunted back.

Italy shook his head. "You're right. Two men can't. But two men can have a family. She's so happy with us. We could do this together. I need you."

He shook his head, but made no vocal denial.

"She already has a family," Italy said gently. "Papa, and _Vati_, and Uncle Gilbert, Uncle Lovino and Uncle Antonio. Eh? Doesn't that sound nice?" He kissed his partner's forehead. "Germany… Ludwig. Ludwig, _please_."

Germany pulled away. Italy saw the conflict in his eyes as he looked at the baby. She sucked her fist and looked back, then let out a high-pitched squeal of laughter that melted into some more undetectable sounds.

"I can't do this without you," he said gently.

He sighed shakily and for a moment, Italy thought he was going to get up and walk away. But he didn't. He stayed in the armchair while knots wound tighter in Italy's stomach. Germany didn't speak. He just looked at the wall, then the baby, and then outside where it was heavy with snow.

"You couldn't go to the theatre, anymore," said Germany quietly.

Italy almost cried out in joy, but he didn't. He smiled and said, "I never really liked the theatre much anyway."

"I work a lot, Italy," said Germany. "A baby needs a stable household. It can't go back and forth."

"Eh. What are you saying?" Italy muttered, a little confused. Germany was making up excuses again – he had thought he was making progress!

"Move in with me." Germany looked up to Italy.

"R-really? Do you mean it?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it," said the German seriously.

"I want to," said Italy, kissing his partner fiercely. "I want to, and I want this baby and I want to be with you. I want everything. Please, will you just say 'yes', I'm so confused, if you want this, with me, please just say yes."

Germany kissed the Italian back. The baby squirmed a little in his arms, feeling awkward. "Ja."

Italy cried out in joy and threw his arms around Germany's neck.

"You're going to be so good, _ve_," he cried. "You can pull her into order when she goes out chasing all the boys, and of course all the boys will be chasing her because she's so beautiful!" Italy rambled. "And she can drive the Fiat around when she gets older!"

"Feliciano," Germany grunted. "Come on, get it together."

Italy sniffed and collapsed into the lounge against the wall. Germany shifted the baby she rested her head on her shoulder.

"We should take her to a hospital," he muttered. "Then there are adoption papers to fill out… We need to think of a name, as well."

"Big decisions," agreed Italy.

"She can't sleep in the basket like a dog," Germany said. "Maybe we should travel into Berlin, anyway. We can get what we need in the one place."

"A car seat," Italy said. "We have to get that."

"Pram."

"Basinette. Change table."

Germany rubbed his brow. It was a lot, very quickly.

"When will Prussia be back?"

Germany shrugged. "I'll call him. We'll pick him up while we're in the city."

Italy went to the kitchen then, intent on making some breakfast. "Okay."

Italy began making breakfast in the kitchen as Germany called his brother. He started speaking in German, so he'd gotten through with his brother when the baby began to cry over a sudden lack of attention. Italy cradled the baby against him, eating the avocado toast while rocking the baby.

Germany, on the phone with Prussia, tried to conceal the secret.

"Oi, West, where the hell are you? Was that a baby?" said Prussia.

"Eh? No, it's the television. Listen, Feliciano and I are going into Berlin this afternoon, can you get on the train home – the one that arrives at three? Are you finished whatever you're doing?"

"Yeah," Prussia hummed. "I guess I could."

"Where the hell are you anyway?" he said. "I waited up all night. You could have called and said you were staying." He eyed Italy walking past, and knew his grasp on German was not all that great.

"Pish-posh," muttered Prussia. "Let me live a little. I was out being awesome, so sue me. I'll be at that stupid train station by three. Make sure you're there." He said. "Oh, and tell Italy, I have already dibbed the front seat for the ride home. I won't let him have it if he begs."

"Feliciano's driving." Italy perked up at his name being heard, but didn't understand the rest of the statement. The baby had settled down by that time.

"Kesesese," laughed Prussia. "Don't joke, West. You'd never let Feliciano behind the wheel of that Volkswagen."

* * *

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers. It seems Germany's made a decision and the baby is here to stay! Silly Germany, that was the easiest past!

Please leave a review before you go! Thanks!

~ **Arlia'Devi**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Italy looked at Germany poignantly as he held the baby – the baby they'd only this morning verbally adopted - in his arms as the Volkswagen unlocked with a click. Germany opened the passenger side door and Italy slipped in, before closing it. Germany got behind the wheel of his beloved Volkswagen and started up the engine. It purred like a kitten.

"Don't drive recklessly, okay?" Italy said as he held the baby, doing up his seat-belt at the same time. "We're holding precious cargo."

The German, wondering if there had ever been an example of reckless behaviour in front of the Italian, who was all about recklessness, said, "I didn't wake up this morning and consider wrapping my car around a tree."

Italy's lips curled up into a smile as they backed out of the driveway. He'd changed and fed the baby beforehand, so if he could get it to go to sleep for the hour drive that would be nice.

However for the first fifteen minutes, there was far too much stimulation for a curious baby to look at – her Papa making funny faces, and fighting with Vati over the soft tunes on the radio station, the whirl of the outside world, and the frosting of the glass windows. The car was so smooth, however, and the sensation was lulling.

Italy watched with intrigue as, slowly, _slowly_ the baby's eyes closed and she fell asleep on his lap.

"She's asleep," Italy whispered. "That's good."

"There's a good doctor in Berlin. We'll take her to. I'll get her in," Germany said.

"Ve, how are we supposed to explain this…," he muttered. "People aren't supposed to know that were not – you know…"

"I've got it covered," Germany said. "Don't worry about it."

Italy sighed and looked out the window. Germany in winter was bitter, but beautiful. It was desolate, everything had stopped growing, but in those moments of complete stillness it was breathtaking.

The baby was still asleep when they made it to Berlin, a little before midday. Germany drove around the city streets as if he knew them like the back of his hands. Then again, Italy thought, he knew all the canals of Venice like they were nothing, he knew the streets of Rome – the old ones and the new.

They came to an era house, with iron lace detailing, painted an attractive green and red with black finishes. There were flowers in pots by the entrance. The baby had awoken by the time Italy and Germany arrived at the doctor's office and had begun to fuss quietly at the disruption.

Germany said he would handle it, so Italy let his partner approach the receptionist. He realised that everyone here spoke German, and he didn't understand German at all really – it was much different a language to his. He shifted around nervously with the baby as Germany spoke to the pretty receptionist. Other parents had their babies sitting in a waiting area. Some were sleeping, playing, or making a fuss.

"Fifteen minutes," Germany said as he came over to Italy.

"Eh, Germany, I'm not going to understand what the doctor says. Does he speak English?" he asked, resting the baby on his shoulder.

"I don't know. Not much," he said. "I'll translate for you."

"Ve, we should have gone to an Italian doctor. You understand Italian better than I know German."

"You'll have to learn," said Germany.

"Eh, Ludwig? Mr. Beilschmidt?" muttered the doctor, coming out of his little office.

"Ja," Germany said, standing. Italy stumbled to his feet with the baby and stumbled into the pristine, sterilised white office. One of the walls had a toddler's growing chart on it, stylised by a happy giraffe. Germany and the doctor started speaking to each other, and Italy just sat down and tried to follow along.

"Do you speak English?" asked Germany. "My partner's German isn't fluent. This is my niece," he motioned to the baby. "My sister's been having some difficulties, so I was going to bring her along."

The doctor nodded. "I speak a little English. What's the baby's name, how old is he?" the doctor looked to the Italian and said, "Hallo, I am doctor Obessler, you don't speak much German – that's alright. Do you want to put the baby on the table?"

Italy promptly did what he was asked, relieved to be able to communicate.

"The baby's a girl," said Germany.

"What's her name?" he looked to Italy, "She's lovely."

"She doesn't… ahem," Germany cleared his throat. "She doesn't have a name. Not yet."

The doctor looked at Germany with a strange glance. "She looks as if she's four weeks old. She doesn't have a name?"

Italy noticed the tension between the doctor and his partner. He didn't know what the doctor had just said, but he had a good idea.

And then his German did a thing that would make him giggle and laugh for the next few months. He slipped one hand into the pockets of his black jeans, stepped closer to the doctor and discreetly slipped him a sizable note, muttering something in German.

"Please, just look at her," muttered Germany, slipping a one hundred dollar note into the doctor's hands.

The doctor cleared his throat and swiftly pocketed the money, before clearing his throat.

"Well, she looks to be in good health. Her umbilical stub hasn't come off yet," he noticed as he unbuttoned the baby's blue jumpsuit. "Make sure you dry that off well when you bathe her, or it could get infected. It's drying up now, and should fall off in the next few weeks."

Italy watched as the doctor did some routine checks. The cold of the stethoscope made the baby cry, and the doctor checked her joints and limbs, her heartbeat, lung function, and eyes. After a long while, he sighed and sat back, typing something into his computer.

"She is fine," he said, and then looked to the Italian, "she's a healthy baby," he said in English. "But she needs a name. She needs adoption papers. She'll need all of those because immunisations will be coming up, and we keep a documentation of that. Otherwise," he shrugged a little and looked at the two men. "If she's not being breastfed, then you'll have to continue with a formula – there are some aimed at newborns, from 0-3 months. In an ideal world, all children would be breastfed, but I suppose if your 'sister' is out of the picture…" Germany cleared his throat uncomfortably.

The doctor wrote out his contact details. "I'd prefer an unconventional but happy family than a traditional family that doesn't give the child what he or she needs. Call me if anything happens. Buy yourselves some parenting books. Look up on the internet for a name." The doctor sniggered. "Don't call her something ridiculous like some of those _American celebrities_."

Italy nodded and gathered the baby back up. Germany muttered his thanks and took all the relevant documentation before going back to the car. It was 12:30.

"That doctor was really nice. Can we get something to eat? I mean if you have any money left," said Italy, giggling. "Then we can go shopping, and pick up Uncle Prussia."

"Oh ja," Germany cringed. "I forgot about him."

* * *

How will Prussia react to the new addition to the family? Let's see next week!

Please leave a review before you go - I do love them so!

~** Arlia'Devi**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight:**

The sedan just wasn't big enough. Not for everything. Not for the bassinette _and_ the pram. The bassinette could fit, and that was most important, so Germany said they'd buy one from the village closer to home. Then there were the clothes and the supplies, and the car seat – which magically fitted in the car no problem and he'd even been able to install it himself (why pay someone for a job he could do himself?). It had to face away from the front, until the baby grew older. Then there were mobiles and toys that stimulated different parts of the brain and toys for teething. Germany hadn't remembered having half as many toys as this child would when he had grown up and his brain had been stimulated perfectly.

Still, Italy was happy with the baby. It was even nice when Germany was just given the baby and could sit down in the corner of the store and hold it for a while as his Italian lover whizzed back and forth gathering this and that.

_Bruder is going to kill me_, Germany thought. _He goes away for three days and I have a baby. It reads like a bad novel._

The baby hadn't slept in a while – not since this morning, and he was a little worried about that. He wasn't sure about her sleeping - he wasn't sure about it at all. The baby still looked wide-eyed, however, so maybe she'd gotten a good sleep last night.

It was two-thirty when they left. Italy had even bought some books to read up on – to 'study' as he called it. It was amazing, he couldn't manage to study one battle tactic during the war but had fierce determination to learn all about the subject of raising children. When they finally left the bookshop - there had even been a book on 'Vati and Vati raise a baby', which had been insanely accurate it was almost three. The baby was placed in the capsule, and they drove to the station.

"Are you nervous?" Italy asked as Germany parked. "We could wait in the car, if you wanted."

"Nein," he shook his head as Italy took the baby from the back seat. "It's easier this way."

The train was eight minutes away and it was one of those newer fancier models that ran between countries. Gilbert had gone to Austria for a little while, which Italy didn't understand at all. He'd said it was sight-seeing and he had a few loose ends to tie up and usually that meant Gilbert going out drinking with said 'loose ties'. He wondered if there was more to the story.

The train _choofed_ into the station. Italy squeezed German's hand gently before letting go. The German wasn't big on the public displays, but the small smile he offered the Italian said he appreciated it.

Germany saw the albino brother swagger off the train a little ways down the platform and promptly look around for him. Germany told Italy to wait there while he retrieved his brother and his luggage – oh gott, where was his luggage supposed to fit in the car? Italy shifted the baby awkwardly.

"This is either going to go very well, or very bad," he whispered against the shell of her tiny ear. "We'll see…"

"Ey, West," Prussia embraced his brother with a handshake and a pat on the back. "Have a good weekend?"

"It was interesting," he admitted. "And you?"

"Haha, yes," he laughed as he grabbed his bags from the cargo carriage. "Where is Italy? You guys were coming down together right? Aw crap, you didn't have another fight did you?"

"Nein," he replied. "Italy is here."

"Well let's go," he said. Germany hesitated and touched his shoulder. Prussia slumped.

"_Bruder_… is something wrong?" he frowned.

"Italy and I… had an interesting weekend," he muttered. "I don't know how to explain it. Don't overreact."

"What the fuck?" Prussia muttered. "What the hell are you talking about? Did you get another dog? Did something happen to the dogs? To _Blackie_?"

"Nein," he said, noting the disregard he had for the other dog's health. "Blackie is fine. Come on then," Germany said and he and Prussia walked down the considerably less crowded platform. Italy was waiting down the end.

"He knows I'm in the front, right?" Prussia laughed.

"Ja."

They approached Italy, who was waiting back by the wall, being concealed by people walking to and from the stationary train.

"Ey, Italy!" Prussia greeted the man warmly when he approached him. "How you goin' –whatthefuckisthat?"

Germany took a shaky breath. "That's what I couldn't explain."

"You better hope for your sake, bruder, that's just another dog wrapped up," he growled, stalking over to Italy. He saw the baby's face and whatever remaining colour he had in his face, drained. "Is this a joke? Are you baby-sitting one of England's spawns again? This is like Sealand all over again."

"She's a baby," Italy said, brushing her blonde hair back. "She was left at the house in the snow to die. No one wanted her, so we're going to keep her. We're going to give her a family."

Prussia's frowned and looked to his brother. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Germany sighed. His brother was right.

"We don't know what we're doing," corrected Germany, "Not one bit. I wanted to take her to the orphanages here in Berlin… but I," he hesitated. "You know how crowded those orphanages are…"

Prussia hesitated. "Ja, you're right. They're really terrible."

"She doesn't have a name yet. We just call her 'the baby'," Italy laughed.

"That's a awful name," Prussia laughed gently. "So it's staying?"

Italy nodded. Prussia did a funny sound in the back of his throat that Italy didn't understand - like he was deliberating something, or making up his mind. Eventually his face softened and his shoulder's relaxed.

"Well, I raised West without much help after Vati left," he said, "and look how well he turned out, kesesese! Eh, I suppose I'm an _onkel_ now. Hahaha, awesome."

"Italy's moving in," Germany said. "Just to let you know."

Prussia huffed. "This is a lot of information in a short amount of time, eh? I only went away for the weekend, bruder." He sighed then and looked at the baby. "She's cute at least. She kind of looks like you, West."

Italy giggled and Germany flushed.

"I told him that - he doesn't believe me," said Italy. "I think it might be his baby after all and raising it is his punishment for playing up with some pretty lady in the village."

Prussia laughed heartily at that. Germany cowered in embarrassment as people turned to him.

They made their way to the car and Prussia shook his head at the stuff they had managed to cram into the car. They managed to get his overnight bag next to the baby's seat. Italy fastened the baby in, and they pulled out of the train station.

As soon as they made it out of the train station and into the traffic of Berlin, the baby started to cry in the backseat. Germany cast a look in the rear-vision mirror, seeing Italy trying to soothe it with happy faces and words. It didn't help. The baby only cried louder, and the traffic got heavier and Germany got more agitated.

"What's the matter with her?" he asked. Italy fretted.

"I don't know!" he whimpered. "She just won't stop crying."

"Is she hungry?" asked Prussia, turning around in his seat. "Crapped herself?"

"No," Italy shook his head. "We only just did all that before we picked you up."

"Eh, she's probably tired. Overtired and grumpy. Like when you don't go to sleep at 3am and then wake up at 7am."

"How do we get her to go to sleep?" Italy asked. Prussia shrugged.

"She'll fall asleep on her own."

Germany gripped the steering wheel. How long until that happened? He'd have to attempt to navigate traffic while the baby was screaming her little head off in the back seat? They were, thankfully, getting out of Berlin faster than expected. The baby was still crying. Prussia pointed to a road coming up.

"Take this one."

"It will take us twenty minutes out of our way," Germany gritted.

"Do it. Trust me," he said.

Germany sighed and turned off the main road. This road was bumpier, but sealed and the baby's cry got a little jerkier and wetter. It continued for around ten minutes, until she began to calm down. Germany looked in the back seat. Italy was watching the baby with heavy, hooded eyes. _Fantastic_. Someone hadn't had their siesta. The baby was silent now, and both passengers in the back seat had fallen into slumbers.

"What did I tell you?" smiled Prussia, looking at the two in the back.

"Italy was not supposed to fall asleep," he grunted, turning a corner smoothly. "But I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth."

They got to the house, twenty-one minutes later than their anticipated arrival but with a quiet baby and a quiet Italian. Prussia watched on as Germany managed to carry both his new daughter and his partner into the house, kicking the door open non-too-gently with his muscles rippling under his favourite green knitted jumper and leather jacket. Prussia sighed and could only wonder, exactly how had his younger _bruder_ grown up so fast?

* * *

Sorry about the lack of updates - I hope you're enjoying this fic as much as I am reading it. In the next chapter, Italy and Germany take the doctor's advice and decide to pick a name - but out of the thousands of names, will it be easy? Squabbling ensues!

Please take the time to leave a quick review!

~ **Arlia'Devi**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: **

_Warning: changed the rating to "M" because of a sexual scene within this chapter._

When Italy awoke, Germany was feeding the baby in the den. His brother was by Germany's side, watching on with a small smile on his face.

"Ey, West, she really does look like you," he sniggered. "What you gonna call her, eh? What about Gilberta? Gertie for short?" He laughed. The baby made happily sucking sounds and a rich smell was wafting from the kitchen. It was almost six in the evening. How long had Italy been out for?

"We're not naming her that," Germany replied. He noticed as Italy waded into the lounge. He was doing up the fly on his pants – it was never comfortable to sleep in jeans. Germany had taken them off when putting him to bed. "Oh, you're awake?"

"You should have woken me," muttered Italy.

"You obviously needed the sleep, Italy," said Gilbert. "Dinner will be soon. I'm making pork schnitzel." He stepped into the kitchen without a word and Italy sunk down by his partner, watching the baby finish off her bottle.

"You set up the bassinette as well? And unpacked the car?" he hummed. "I should have helped. I'm sorry."

"It wasn't very hard," replied Germany. He handed Italy the baby. "I need to do some paperwork. I have things to catch up on."

Italy nodded and took the baby as Germany went into his study.

"How long ago did she wake up?" Italy asked. Germany was putting on his glasses – the ones that Italy always liked, the slim framed ones that just balanced on his slender nose.

"Ah, maybe an hour ago?" he looked at the clock. His brother called him into the kitchen then, and Italy heard Germany and Prussia talking in German before he retreated to his office to work. Italy turned his attention back to the baby. For a little while he spoke to her, just nothing words and sentences, but she watched his face for a reaction. Then, there was a game show on television for half an hour, and Italy watched that. The baby was happy sitting on the lounge beside him, and made no sounds. Then, after the game show was finished and it still wasn't dinner time, or bath time and Germany still hadn't finished all his work, they went into the kitchen with Onkel Prussia, who addressed the baby as Bertie. Italy hummed in dissatisfaction at this. They would have to find a name before 'Bertie' stuck.

Italy came into the kitchen with Prussia's laptop and fired it up, scanning through baby name pages like it wasn't anyone's business, jotting down the ones he liked, and, more importantly, the ones he didn't. He and Germany would stay up late tonight, and the baby would be named, whether they liked it or not.

It was seven-thirty, and the baby began to grow tired – touching her eyes and making small fists. Italy bathed the baby, holding her gently in the upstairs tub, before taking her into the bedroom and soothing her to sleep. It was surprisingly easy – quiet time was important for babies, he had read online. They needed time to wind down from big days. They'd bought a monitor – Italy attached it to the crib, and took the second one down at around quarter past eight. Germany had finished his work for now, and was eating dinner with Prussia.

"She's asleep," Italy said, and began eating. "I looked online for some nice names. You should look too and we'll compare and decide."

Germany nodded. Prussia laughed.

"I don't understand what's wrong with Gilberta? It's a great strong name – it's done me well," he laughed.

Germany gave a wry grin. "We'll come up with something."

They ate, washed the dishes, and then Germany took a call with his boss about the World Conference being held in Berlin in a month's time, before doing more paperwork. Prussia went to bed saying that he'd speak with his bruder in the morning; Italy went up at 10:30 and fed the baby again, changed her and put her back to sleep.

There was a late night news programme on when Germany finally came out of his office, cracking his back.

"I'm done. Sorry it took so long," he muttered. He was holding a piece of paper with scribbles in his cursive handwriting on it. "We can talk now – I, um," he looked at the paper. "I have some ideas."

Italy smiled gently and touched the seat beside him. Germany sunk into the lounge and took off his glasses.

"Let's go have a bath together," hummed Italy. "Ve, you're tense."

"Don't you want to-,"

"We can. In bed." He got up from the lounge and dragged his lover up. "Bathtime. Now. You even smell."

"I don't smell," argued the German.

He didn't smell, but he definitely was tense. Italy had this way of moving behind him, slick with bath bubbles and soaps, and massaging his shoulders and neck, wrapping his legs around his thighs and nibbling on the backs of his ears. Germany sighed and soaked in the bubbles. His fingers ran up Italy's slick, slender thigh and the man shivered behind him.

"Mmm, feels good," he hummed before biting down on Germany' ear. His hand trailed down the valley of his pecs, then skimmed over his abs. "Ludwig? Mmm, you're getting hard."

Italy touched Germany gently, running his hand up and down his shaft. It was slick from the bubbles and froth, and Italy knew his lover needed to let off some steam, anyway. Germany, not used to being at another's mercy attempted to roll over, but Italy kept the man in his grip with his legs. He whispered dirty, sinful sweet-nothings into his lover's ear before hearing his lover stifle a cry of pleasure, felt his body shake and then release into his hand and the water.

They dried off and went to bed, where the baby slept soundly. The fire was still burning downstairs, so they dressed in their bedclothes and retreated by the warmth of the fire.

"All right," Italy smile. "Do you want to go first?"

Germany skipped over his list. "Nein. You first."

"Hmmm," he hummed and rolled closer to the fire, snuggling into his partner's chest. "Isabella, or Bella, because she is so beautiful."

"Everyone is called Bella in Italy," he muttered. "People who are not named Bella are even addressed as 'bella'…"

"That's because everyone is beautiful in Italy!" he grinned.

"Maybe we should find something more… unique. What about Mathilde?"

Italy shook his head. "No."

"Reasons? Do you have any logical reasons?"

"When we find the right name, we'll know. It will suit her," he smiled. Germany rolled his eyes. So much for the logical reasoning. He grabbed a pen and crossed off the name MATHILDE.

"Nora – as in, Eleanora."

Germany was silent for a moment; Italy waited and rolled on his back.

"I like that name."

"Ve," Italy smiled.

"But I don't know if it's 'the one'."

"Are you teasing me, Germany," he muttered. "For not liking Mathilde? Do you only have German names? Why can't we name her both something German and Italian, eh?"

Germany shrugged. "I guess we can. What about Sofia?"

"I knew a pretty lady names Sofia," said Italy. "But…," he laughed nervously. "Um. I don't want to name the baby that."

Germany sighed. This was harder than he thought. He tried to think of names that were both German and Italian, but that was easier said than done.

"Mila."

"No. She needs a strong name."

"She needs a cute name! She's a girl. A pretty name!"

"Charlize?"

Italy shook his head. "Nu-uh."

"What? Why?"

"Because you didn't like Nora, that's why. I like Nora."

"I said I _liked_ Nora," countered Germany. "I'm not convinced."

Italy hummed and sighed. "Ve, Germany this is hard – but we have to come up with a name soon, otherwise, Bertie might stick and I really don't want it to."

Germany chuckled.

"Italia – what about Anna?"

Italy looked at his partner. "Anna?"

"Ja. Like Annaliese."

He smiled gently. "I really like that, Ludwig."

"It means God's work."

Italy hummed for a moment. "I actually... really like that. Do you?"

"Ja. I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't."

"And then, she can always be called Anna, you know, if she doesn't like it. And I don't know of any other Anna's or Annaliese's."

"That is true," Germany considered. "What about a last name?"

"I want her to take yours," Italy said. "It sounds better."

"Annaliese Beilschmidt?" Germany tested it on his tongue. "Give her a middle name. An Italian one."

Italy laughed and rolled over. "Annaliese Eleanora."

Germany nodded. "It's decided then."

Italy giggled and pushed back his lover's feathery blonde hair before kissing him sweetly. "I love you. Can we go to bed now, ve? I'm exhausted."

"Ja," replied the German, and the two leeched up the stairs, into a dark room where a gentle breathing permeated the air. In the corner, in a new, white bassinette, Annaliese Eleanora Beilschmidt slept deeply as a small colourful mobile shimmered above her head. Italy sighed as he nestled against his partner. Slowly, they both drifted off to sleep.

_Thank you for the lovely comments on this fanfiction! I've written quite a few chapters for this already, so expect more in the future! I'd love to hear what you think so please do take the 30 seconds to write a quick comment in the review section below!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten:**

Prussia was cooking bacon and eggs in the kitchen while Germany sat at the dinette, holding Annaliese in his strong arms and feeding her a bottle. The bacon hissed and crackled. It was just after seven am, and Italy, as usual, had not risen yet. Germany was dressed in his heavy-duty running boots, thick jeans and an ex-army jacket.

"Eh, bruder," muttered Prussia as he turned over the eggs. The kettle was boiling, and the coffee machine was brewing a cappuccino. "I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" asked Germany, noticing his brother's unease.

Prussia hummed around the kitchen. On the window sill was Gilbird, his ever-faithful pet. Germany watched the bird carefully as he held Annaliese. It had travelled all over Europe and into Asia – who knew what sort of bird diseases it harboured.

"You have to swear not to tell Italy," Prussia warned, waving the spatula.

"I swear?" he replied curiously.

Prussia took a deep breath.

"I'm screwing Elizabetha," admitted Prussia.

"_Again_?"

"Ja. Don't tell Italy – she's real anal about him finding out, she's like his mother or something. It could kill him, apparently," Prussia sighed.

"At least she's not married this time," Germany hummed, picking up Annaliese to burp her gently. "Is that where you were this weekend?"

Prussia nodded. "We were fucking, and then she started talking about '_us',_ like being together afterwards. It was weird but – I think this time is the real thing," Prussia muttered. "I keep going back to her. We keep going back to each other. Only this time, it's not as messed up as it used to be. After that dickwad Austria divorced her... I dunno," he trailed off. Germany looked to the baby and sighed. At least Annaliese was less complex than his brother's on-again off-again love life.

"Well, I agree - don't tell Italy," he muttered. "Don't tell him until you've sorted it out... whatever it is you need to sort out with her."

"We're so screwed," Prussia sighed, taking the bacon from the pan and plating it up for a greasy breakfast. "But fuck I love her."

Annaliese murmured and squirmed in Germany's grasp and Prussia watched his younger brother play with the little baby.

"You'll be a good Vati, West," he said, softly. "You're like our Vati. He was a decent guy. Maybe didn't deserve some of the stuff that happened to him; maybe didn't deserve some of the stuff that I did to him."

"I don't remember," Germany admitted. The baby made a happy gurgling noise, clambering to destroy Germany's slicked back hair and grab onto anything she could and the Prussia smiled. Italy entered the kitchen then, with a small smile on his face.

"I'll be a good onkel, I promise," he divided up the bacon and eggs into the three dishes. "Better than the brother I was to you sometimes. I'm sorry."

"What's with all this self-analysis?" grunted Germany, getting his hair free and pushing it back again.

"I wasn't an awesome bruder, I know," he sighed. "I guess just seeing you with that kid, and now Italy, its put things into perspective." He was about to say something else, but Italy walked into the kitchen wearing nothing more than an oversized shirt – probably Germany's – and some tight boxer-briefs.

"Buongiorno, everyone," he yawned and grabbed a cup of coffee - the cappuccino. "Buongiorno, baby," he giggled and smiled at the baby. Germany watched. The Italian was strangely sluggish in the mornings. He'd already taken the dogs for a walk, come back, tended to the baby and was eating breakfast.

"West tells me you decided on a name for the baby," said Prussia.

"Si!" Italy beamed, looking over at the two by the dinette. "Annaliese Eleanora. Pretty, huh?"

Prussia nodded. "Not as good as Gilberta, but we'll see."

Germany handed the baby to Italy, but he politely declined, instead Prussia opted to hold her awkwardly. He laughed and muttered about baby Germany and their Vati.

"She likes you, Prussia," Italy laughed gently.

"Of course she does – I'm her awesome onkel."

"Can you watch her today, Ludwig? I need to go back to Italy…," Italy muttered, looking to Germany guilty. "I'm sorry."

Germany nodded. "When will you be back?"

"Um. Maybe tomorrow morning. Will you be all right? I can try to come back earlier, but I have to see _fratello_…," he shifted awkwardly and looked at his partner. "I'm sorry."

"I can help, West," Prussia said offhandedly. "Go, Italy. It will be all right."

"Ja," resolved Germany. "I can look after her."

Italy nodded and left the room to get dressed. Germany sighed and looked at the baby. At least she was quiet in her Onkel's arms. They weren't having many problems with her… really. Her blue eyes were awake and astute. He finished the coffee and took the baby from Prussia and upstairs, to the bathtub and bathed her carefully. Italy came in and smiled.

"Ve, she's so small in Germany's hands," he kissed his bare shoulder gently and Germany shifted uncomfortably. "Will you be all right? Really?"

"Ja."

"You'll call, won't you? If you have any problems?"

"There will be no problems," he replied. The baby squirmed in the warm water and began to cry at the unwanted contact of feeling wet. Germany ignored the cries and bathed her with the baby oils and washes until satisfied, before picking her back up and placing her on a bathroom trolley that was making do as a change-table.

Italy smiled and watched his big, strong Germany touch the little baby so gently. How such a man, who exhibited ruthlessness and harshness to his troops and working lifestyle, could be so tender towards his family and his lover was beyond him. He even had such a passive, relaxed attitude at home – as long as the home was clean and the dishes were clean. It was funny - those little quirks of Germany.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning," said Italy.

"Ja, it's fine," Germany was focusing more on making sure to get the nappy on correctly.

Italy laughed and kissed his shoulder. "I love you. _Ti amo_, Ludwig."

Germany sighed and turned to his lover. "Ich liebe dich auch, Feliciano." The little Italian whimpered happily at the contact and confession and steadied himself on his tip-toes to kiss Germany passionately on the lips. The baby squirmed on the trolley and Italy smiled at her.

"Ti amo, Annaliese," he smiled. "See you soon, _bella_."

"You're going to tell your bruder?" asked Germany as he began to dress the baby.

Italy laughed nervously. "Si, we'll see how that goes. Eh, I suppose Spain's in the family too now!"

Germany rolled his eyes. "He spends enough time with my bruder as well." Italy stifled a laugh – Prussia, Spain and France's escapades were notorious. "It will be fine."

"Fratello likes you," he smiled, not exactly believing the words spilling from his mouth. "He's a bit of a dick sometimes, but he doesn't mean most of the things he says – really," Italy said nervously. "It's just he's protective of me, being older and stuff-,"

"If I have worries about what your brother thinks of me," replied Germany, hoisting the baby onto his shoulder. "I can always just claim Southern Italy for myself, hmm?" There was a devious glimmer in his eyes. The kind he used to get when he used to make up complex, cunning battle plans – the kind that Prussia got when he used to talk about all the vital regions he'd seized of Austria's.

Italy laughed. "That's not very nice, Germany!" he laughed. "Plus, you wouldn't want Southern Italy, you know Spain will have his armada down there in a heartbeat. Plus, you don't want to mess with Romano's mafia! They're really scary, Germany!" he smiled and kissed his lover's collarbone. "You will call me."

"If I need you."

Italy laughed. "Silly Germany. You always need me."

* * *

_Thank you to all the reviewers - we've almost made it to 100, which is amazing! Can we do it? I hope so.  
In the next chapter, Germany faces babysitting alone, but will Prussia be more of a hinder than a help?  
Please take the time to leave a small review before you go!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven:**

Germany didn't need Italy. Not one bit. He was doing his work with Annaliese in a rocker by the study dozing to sleep, and everything was quiet. Prussia was out with Spain somewhere, and Germany only hoped Italy told his brother about being "Zio Lovino" before Prussia informed Spain and then Spain told Romano. Germany signed off on a bill and looked down to the rocker that was slowly moving back and forth on the floor. Annaliese was drooling a little, her little hands bawled up under her blanket. Germany ran his hands down his face.

He was a _Vati_ now. He was responsible for the upbringing, the education and health of another little person. Italy had passed it off that it was a cute baby and he loved the way it smelt and its cuddles. As usual, Germany was the more rational one of the lot. Prussia argued too rational, sometimes, but nevertheless.

He worked on some more paperwork, organising for the World Conference that was going to be held in Berlin in just over a month's time. There was so much to organise – the accommodation, the reservations and responses from the invited countries of who could attend. Some countries strictly couldn't sit next to each other on the tables.

But he was determined to make a good impression. What was Germany without his national pride? An Italian without pasta, that's what.

Speaking of the Italian, Germany looked to the clock. He'd left this morning, and it was getting well into the afternoon and he hadn't had a problem with the baby.

Prussia came into the room then.

"Where's my little girl?" he smiled, noticing the rocker.

"Sleeping," he replied, looking over his glasses at his brother. "Don't disturb her. Where have you been?"

"Out," said Prussia simply.

"With Miss Hungary?"

"Oi!" Prussia cried. The baby grunted in her rocker. "How did you know?"

"Your shirts wrinkled, your fly is undone and you have a smudge of lipstick near your ear," he muttered.

"Gah!" cried Prussia, rubbing at his cheek. "I went to the market like this!"

"And if you were out with Spain or France, Spain in particular would probably be back here," he replied.

Prussia was about to respond when his phone rang, making a loud, irritating sound. Germany winced and looked to Annaliese. She'd woken up at the disturbance and was currently very red in the face. Tears began to fall from her eyes at the disrupted sleep and a loud wail erupted from her mouth.

Germany winced and moved down to pick her up. Annaliese cried and cried as Germany held her, glaring at Prussia as he made a quick exit from the room.

Getting up from the desk, he paced around the study, patting the girl gently on the back. "Calm down," he muttered against her hair. "It was your irritating onkel. You only have Vati to get you back to sleep, and he's very busy, so be a good girl for him, hmm?"

But it became evident after fifteen minutes of rocking and crying, that Annaliese was far too tired to be a good girl. Her face became red and just as Germany thought she'd settled down, she'd start up again crying and flailing her little fists around everywhere.

Prussia entered the room again and Germany shot him daggers over the baby's head.

"Sorry," he chuckled a little and obviously wasn't that sorry. The baby was distressed and crying, but Germany was _not_ about to call Italy. He could handle this!

"Hold her a moment," he said, handing Annaliese to her onkel.

"What!" Prussia cried, taking the screaming baby. "Why me? This is not awesome at all, West!"

"You woke her up!" Germany hissed, moving to fire up his computer. It started quickly and he opened up a browser before searching 'how to calm a baby'.

"Swing her, it says," said Germany. "Swing her in your arms. Well, I've been doing that for the last twenty minutes."

"Is she hungry?"

"No."

"Has she pissed herself?"

Germany looked at his brother poignantly. "I don't know. Check."

Prussia looked horrified. "No way. I am _not_ checking that!" Germany laughed and scrolled down the page. "Just call Italy."

"No," he replied. "Swaddling…," he muttered and ushered for Prussia to bring the baby over. "Maybe she wants to be swaddled."

"What the hell is that?" Prussia said as the baby screamed. "Dear Lord, this is like a bad American film."

Germany picked a small, light cotton sheet from the baby's rocker and placed it on the table before wrapping Annaliese as per the instructions. He made sure it wasn't too tight, but not loose enough as it was going to come undone before picking her back up and rocking her gently. He sighed and pushed back his hair when Annaliese began to settle, an hour after she'd been woken up.

"See," he said gently, falling back into his armchair as Annaliese made small contented sounds. "I don't need Italy." He sighed in exhaustion and patted the girl's back.

"Yeah," drawled Prussia. "You sure showed me," he rolled his eyes. "Want to get take-out tonight?"

"Ja," replied Germany.

"There's a good game on tonight. Eh, Annaliese can go for the _Nationalelf_!" he laughed. "Bros night - plus one."

"Ah," Germany gave his brother a menacing smile. "I think she just said, "Go the Blues! Go, _Gli Azzurri_! Go!"

Prussia gave his brother a hard stare. "Don't fuck with me, West."

Germany chuckled. The baby was asleep.

* * *

Six hours later, however, with some empty chinese containers lying on the coffee table and a third beer, Germany found himself in the exact same situation as Prussia hollered and hooted, celebrating the win, Annaliese woke up.

That had been half-an-hour ago, and their new daughter showed no signs of slowing down.

"Call Italy!" Prussia said over the baby's squawks.

"No," replied Germany defiantly. "I can handle this."

"It's midnight, and I can't sleep," muttered Prussia. Annaliese continued to cry in her Vati's arms. She was tired again but couldn't get back to sleep.

"If you didn't wake her up, she would have been fine," replied Germany.

Prussia shot him a look. "We got the winning goal. It was an exciting match!"

Germany trudged upstairs with the baby. Everything had been fine until Prussia had drunk a little too much, hooted and hollered, thus getting the dogs barking and the baby crying. Of course, they weren't used to having a baby in the house, but Germany was beginning to find out a grumpy Annaliese was not a fun Annaliese.

"Go to bed, bruder, I'll get her to sleep again," he said.

Prussia sighed and nodded. "Listen. I'm sorry West. I'm being such a dick - I'll try to keep it down from now on..."

"It's all right," muttered Germany. "I'll see you in the morning."

Prussia slumped off to the stairs that went down to the basement, and Germany went upstairs to run a warm bath for the baby. Her second bath that night, she cried all through the process until Germany began to gently rub baby oil into her warm skin.

When her eyelids started to droop on the changing trolley in the bathroom, Germany smirked in satisfaction. It was like a well strategized battle against him and his daughter's grumpiness, and one battle that he was determined to always be the victor.

Making up a bottle, Annaliese took it without a qualm. It was when he'd put her down into the bassinette, the falling feeling would wake her up and he'd be forced to hold and rock and cradle her again until she fell asleep. What sort of witchcraft was this? She wanted to go to sleep, but placing her on the bed only made her wakeup. Germany knew that if this kept up much longer, Annaliese would become grumpy and disruptive again.

He sighed and made his way over to the king bed on the other side of the room, cradling the baby to his chest and lying down with her. He was exhausted. Exhausted from the paperwork, from the baby, from his brother – he just wanted to sleep.

So he did. He held Annaliese gently in his arms, cradling her small body against his chest, and Germany slept. His phone flashed and vibrated on the bedside table, flashing "FELICIANO" but he never heard it, never answered it, and it rang off.

* * *

Thank you, everyone for reviewing! We're so close to 100: can we make it! I sure hope so. I'd love for you guys to leave a review before you go.

Next chapter: Italy gets home from, well, Italy – is everything how he left it? Or will Germany's perfect routine be utterly destroyed?

Sorry about the lag in updates – have had a very busy few weeks! Expect another chapter next week.

Thanks guys!

~ Arlia'Devi


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve:**

Italy arrived back at Germany's Berlin home earlier than expected. His Fiat pulled up in the driveway behind Germany's Volkswagen. Strangely enough, Germany hadn't called him last night. Italy had rung his mobile around midnight, but it had rung off. There was a part of him that was a little worried – what if something had happened to Annaliese without him being there?

Italy let himself through the door. It was around nine a.m., and Germany would have been up. The dogs were still by the door, and yelped when they saw him. On the kitchen was a note from Prussia – which said he was sorry, and he'd gone out. Italy nibbled on his bottom lip and leeched up the stairs, heading for Germany's, and the baby's, room.

"Germany? Are you arou-," Italy smiled gently as he came upon the scene before him. There was his Germany, still in his bed clothes, holding their little daughter to his chest as they both slept.

Italy walked around to the side of the bed and touched his daughter's head, caressing her feathery hair. For once the German was sleeping soundly, past seven in the morning. Was he sick or something?

He laughed. "Germany - Ludwig, wake up."

The German awoke as the baby began to fuss in his arms, only to find someone picking her up and off his chest. He grunted at the loss of contact and then recognised the small laugh.

"Germany must have been tired," Italy hummed. "It's almost nine thirty…"

"Italy…," he hummed and rolled over, groaning when he saw the time. "You're home early."

"You can go back to sleep if you want. I'll go feed her. Ve, you must be exhausted?"

"Nein," Germany replied, rolling out of bed and pulling on a jumper. "Prussia woke her up accidentally. I didn't get her back to sleep until after midnight."

"Oh sweetheart," Italy crooned at the baby as she rubbed her eyes with her little fists. Germany swung his feet off the bed and rubbed his face, pushing back his fringe. "Let's go get you ready for the day."

Italy went downstairs and made up a bottle. Germany took a shower and came down dressed in his usual attire – tank top, heavy-duty pants and light jacket. The baby took the bottle easily and gurgled as she drank.

"You didn't call," said Italy. "I called, but it rang off. You must have been asleep. Was she good?"

"She was good," replied Germany, making himself a high-protein cereal breakfast. Italy didn't understand why Germany would wake up and eat something so bland and terrible. "Did you see your brother?"

"_Si_," replied Italy. "_Fratello_ is… _fratello_," he sighed a little dejectedly and placed Annaliese's empty bottle in the sink to rinse later. "I invited him around tomorrow. For dinner. I think Spain is coming too. Is that all right?"

Germany swallowed. It wasn't a secret that Romano didn't like Germany, for little more than a fact that he was an influence on his dearest baby brother. Since they'd been together, Germany may have thought Romano's attitude against him would have wavered but it hadn't. Still, it would not be said that Germany would not try to reconcile with the hostile sibling.

"Ja," replied Germany. "I have some work to do."

"I know you're busy," Italy kissed the top of his partner's head. "If you want me to take the baby for the day, I will."

"Nein," he sighed. "You don't have to go anywhere. She's not so bad if bruder isn't around making noise." Germany went to brew a pot of coffee. He was still rather tired from the late night, but determined not to waste time. Caffeine would fix his drowsiness.

"All right," Italy hummed. "Let's go have a bath, little girl." Italy left the kitchen and Germany sighed, feeling a little relief at not being the sole guardian and carer of the four week old baby. He savoured his cup of coffee before cleaning the dishes, then heading into the office. He found his cat – the stream-line black tabby which he hadn't seen in a few days, sleeping on his seat. The cat, one of his pets, strayed as he liked, and came home on occasions. He sighed and patted it, and Germouser responded by stretching his neck before Germany pushed him off the seat and sat down. Italy and Annaliese entered the study then, and Italy saw Germouser run out swiftly.

Germany looked up from his paperwork to see his daughter playing with his partner's hair. Italy didn't grasp the full importance of paperwork and organisations and business, but he did understand that it was important to Germany, so left him alone for the remainder of the morning.

Germany slipped out of his office for lunch at half-twelve. He'd been on the phone for the last half-an-hour organising the World Meeting accommodations in Berlin. He'd been talking with catering, staff at the conference room he was holding it in. There was much preparation that would go into this meeting, and he knew he'd have to make several journeys into inner Berlin in the following weeks leading up to the event.

Prussia was home and in the kitchen holding the contented baby as Italy was working on the soup. Germany rolled his shoulders and filled up a glass of water.

"Spain is coming for dinner?" asked Prussia, rocking the baby.

"Ja. With Romano."

Italy sent him a small sorry look from the kitchen where a large pot of soup was boiling. The oven was on and there was a French-roll being warmed. Italy set the table and Prussia put the baby in the rocker. Germouser strolled in and sniffed Annaliese before walking off without much interest.

The soup – pea and ham, was delicious, but then again, much that Italy made was delicious.

"Make pasta for dinner tomorrow night," said Germany. "Feliciano? It's easy to cater for more people, and Romano might appreciate a familiar cuisine."

Italy smiled. "You try, Germany."

Prussia was making funny faces at Annaliese, who was fussing at not being the centre of attention.

"Indeed I do," he replied.

After lunch, Germany went back to work. Prussia walked the dogs. Italy put the baby down for a nap and had one himself for half-an-hour or so, up in Germany's room, on Germany's nice bed that smelt of Germany. When the baby woke up, Italy was still a little groggy, so he spent a while just on the bed with Annaliese, watching her watching him and blowing little bubbles from her mouth.

Prussia announced he was going out but didn't say where.

Italy made dinner. A hearty, warm casserole with beef bones. Annaliese began to cry while sitting on the kitchen bench, so Italy went to change her upstairs. No one had ever told him ever that a baby's poo was so… so disgusting. It made him gag, and sometimes it got everywhere – _everywhere_. Germouser had disappeared again.

Italy watched a late-afternoon game show while he fed Annaliese in what he was trying to create as a routine. Babies were all about routine. Routine and stimulation said all the online articles he'd read. He fed Annaliese, and then told Germany dinner wouldn't be too far away – he was on the phone and had his glasses on, writing down notes as he spoke in rapid German.

"Let's go give you a nice warm bath," he smiled at Annaliese and ascended the stairs. "I bet you're ready for bed?"

Annaliese gurgled and coughed back. He was running the bath and changing the baby out of her warm pants and tiny jumper, took off her little socks and singlet before grabbing the oils off the bathroom trolley and placing the baby in the water.

"Let me," Italy heard a voice behind him and smiles as Germany rolled up his sleeves on his jackets and leant down on his knees to hold the baby in his hands.

"Ve," Italy smiled and kissed his partner's shoulder. "Germany's hands are so big. I love Germany's hands."

Germany washed the baby gently. Italy had never seen him touch something so small so tenderly. Germany washed the baby in the baby gel – lathering it up on her stomach. Italy was making faces at the baby, and she was wrapped with her Papa's funny expressions.

"You're making her squirm," Germany said as Annaliese began to throw her arms in the air and rock her hips, entertained by her Papa's face.

"She's so cute."

Germany pulled the baby out of the water and into the fluffy towel that Italy held open.

"I'll put her to sleep," Germany said, placing the baby onto the bath trolley.

Italy nodded and left Germany with Annaliese. The baby obviously wasn't the only one who needed some quiet time.

It was late at night and Germany was still doing paperwork in his office. Italy was watching television. With Prussia out and the baby's dreamfeed done, Italy was waiting to go to bed. But not for sleeping. As one of the romance countries of the world, Italy was feeling not-as-loved as he had been pre-baby. Germany was busy with the more-than-excess work he had to do, and Italy was busy with the baby and Italian things and his brother – but god, he wanted to get nailed.

He slinked to Germany's office and heard him talking – making a midnight phone call? He sighed and rested his head against the wooden door. Darn it. Darn it.

"Ja. Danke… ja gute nacht," he heard Germany's voice muffled through the door. Italy perked up as he head the receiver click off. Her styled his hair, undone two buttons on his white shirt and crept in.

"Ludwig, it's almost eleven o'clock. You've been working all day. Call it a night," he said, stepping into the office.

Germany looked hauntingly tired. He took off his light framed reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. His hairstyle had fallen over his eyes in a style that Italy wouldn't admit he found cute in order to save Germany's masculinity and pride. He'd changed into a comfortable jumper and had left his boots upstairs in favour for some thick woollen socks.

"Ja," he sighed and rubbed his eyes. Italy slinked to his side and fingered back his hair. Italy kissed his eyelids gently and switched off the desk lamp.

"Ludwig," he pressed a kiss on his lips, this one not so tender; this one a little needier. "I-."

Germany's big hands, the one he loved so much, pulled him a little closer.

"I know you're tired but I-," he whimpered and Germany pressed a kiss to his collarbone.

"It's fine," replied Germany.

"It's just that," he sighed as Germany stood up, pressing Italy against his body. The smaller man shuddered as his lover leant down to press his lips against his neck, nipping and suckling. "I need you, and it's been so long and I… I can't take it anymore," he knew he was rambling, dragging Germany's jumper up and snaking his hand under to touch his warm, tough abs.

"It's fine," he repeated before backing away and moving things from the table before shaking it and testing it's sturdiness. Satisfied, he swung his Italian lover around and settled him on the desk, so that Italy's legs settled either side of his hips.

"Only if you want to," Italy whispered as Germany began undoing the buttons to his shirt.

"I want to," he grunted back. He bit down on the shell of Italy's ear and heard his lover giggle and tell him to stop.

"Don't bite," Italy squirmed and giggled. "Ludwig, mmm, don't bite!"

Germany smiled against Italy's neck and pushed Italy against him, shifting him forward on the table. Italy pulled back for a moment and smiled, kissing his partner gently.

"You're good to her," he whispered and kissed Germany tenderly. "You're good to me. You're good to us." He kissed him a little more forcefully. "Ti amo."

Germany whispered something in Italy's ear that made him shiver and melt, and then he was placed on the desk and nothing else mattered for the next hour.

* * *

Thanks guys for all the reviews! We only need 11 reviews to get to 100 - can we make it! I really hope so!

Next chapter: Romano and Spain come around for the first family dinner of many - but is there a surprise guest? And what will that mean for the family dynamics.

Thank you and please take the time to leave a quick review!

~ Arlia'Devi


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Germany was not looking forward to this day at all. Not at all, and it had not started out very well, either. For one, he'd taken the dogs for a walk and Berlitz, the puppy, had ran through his boots and out into the garden where he'd proceeded to break the thin layer of ice on the fish pond and fall through it – getting soaked in the freezing water.

He'd come inside to hear Annaliese screaming bloody murder. A horrible stench assaulted his nose. As he came into the bathroom with the dog to stick him in the bath, Germany found a very dirty nappy as Italy washed the screaming baby off in the shower.

It was utter chaos, and Prussia woke up, grumpy and in a foul mood from the early start. He took the dogs for a walk just to get out of the house of shouting Germans, yipping dogs, swearing Italians and offensive hand gestures.

By mid-morning however, things had calmed down. Germany dried off the dog and sent him back outside, and Italy had calmed down the baby and removed the offending garment. Annaliese was calmly eating her breakfast in Italy's arms when Germany entered the kitchen, wearing a pair of black pants and a knitted jumper in deep green. He'd slicked back his hair again.

"I'll go into the village to get groceries. Are you coming? Otherwise you'll need to write a list of what you need me to buy."

"Si," Italy nodded. "We'll come."

"We can get her a stroller."

"Oh she'll like that," Italy cooed. The baby sucked on her bottle and sighed. "What happened to the puppy this morning?"

"Fell into the frozen fish pond," Germany said. "If he didn't get warm and dry he would have frozen to death."

"Will we wait for Gilbert to come back?" Italy asked, burping the baby.

Germany shook his head, grabbing a protein bar and the car keys. "Nein," he said before gathering the nappy bag that followed the baby wherever she went. "I think he's had enough of us for the day."

Italy sighed and placed the baby in the car, distracting her from getting upset at the loss of contact by spinning a mobile. Germany had left a note on the counter for his brother. The Volkswagen purred as it started, despite the cold weather and Germany backed out of the driveway.

"Is that your Fiat?" The red sports car stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Yeah. I drove it here yesterday."

"That car is a crash waiting to happen," Germany muttered. Italy pouted and defended his beloved Fiat with a small slap. The car wasn't dangerous. Not _really_…

Annaliese enjoyed car trips and so was asleep in the back seat, lulled by a warm stomach, a smooth car ride and the comfortable heater. Germany sighed as they pulled up.

"Maybe she shouldn't have gone to sleep. Now she'll wake up and cry…-," he ran his hand through his hair. Italy looked at him as he killed the engine.

"It's all right, Germany."

"No it's not," he muttered. "I don't want her to start crying again. What if she doesn't stop?" He was parked on the street, but made no move to get out.

"What's really going on Germany?" Italy muttered softly. "You can tell me, eh, Ludwig," he squeezed his lover's hand gently.

"I can't do this – it's too much. I'm constantly worrying about her," he shook his head. "What if she's too tired? What if she's not growing? What if she falls sick? Should she be sleeping now? Should she be eating instead?"

Italy smiled. "Germany's doing a good job. You've always been a worry-wart?"

"Aren't you worried about these things too?"

Italy sighed and sat back in his chair. "Sometimes. But I know she's happy with us. I can see it in her eyes. And Spain told me once he is always worried about Romano-,"

"That's different, Feliciano, they're-,"

"Big Brother Spain raised Romano. He said he was always worried about him when he was younger. It a sign of being a good parent."

Germany shifted uncomfortably. "You think so?"

"Is Germany worried about us again?" Italy asked. "Being in public?"

"No," he shook his head. But then he hesitated. He'd only just gotten over the stigma of being with Italy in public, and his government was still dealing with giving same-sex unions the same rights as marriages. The German sighed. "Ja… maybe a little."

Italy laughed. "Germans are so uptight." He opened the door. "Come on."

A moment later, Germany found himself walking down the street of the village while Italy held the baby, who was still drowsy and happy to rest on her Papa's shoulder. A few people looked at the couple as they were passing by, but Italy didn't see, and if he did, didn't look as if the looks bothered him.

The German lady in the baby store, one of the few outside of Berlin, was pretty, and Italy made some signature kissy faces at Germany to tell him of this point. Germany rolled his eyes. The Italian's reply to Germany's eye-roll at his little show was a small shrug, and a sing-song tone of, "I'm Italian, I can't help it, ve!"

Germany spoke to the shop-keeper in German while Italy hung around and looked at the prams and the strollers in the shop. There were many different types of strollers, many different designs. Which one would be better? Which one was the best? Germany called him over where he was talking with the shop owner.

"_Das Baby ist vier Wochen alten_," he explained to the shop assistant. Italy hung around his side. Annaliese was dribbling on Italy's shoulder. "She needs something comfortable but something that can be used when she grows. Not too big."

Annaliese began to fuss at the lack of sensation and her irritability, and Italy managed to fish out her dummy, which she then sucked on gently. The sales person had taken Germany to a model which looked nice – all black and with some storage down the bottom, with three wheels.

"Ve, it looks like an Ape," Italy laughed. Germany looked at him poignantly and cracked a smile. "Should we see if she likes it? Is it a good price?"

"Ja," Germany ushered for her to be put in. The sale's person laughed and asked Germany something Italy didn't understand.

"She's adorable. What's her name?"

"Annaliese," Germany supplied.

"Adopted?"

"Ja."

Annaliese sighed in the pram and looked to her Vati. She was tired and the room was too bright.

Germany picked up his daughter when she began to cry and went to hand her back to his partner, only to find said Italian on the other side of the shop. Germany soothed Annaliese with a small rub on her tiny back.

"She fell asleep in the car over," Germany sighed. "We'll take it, then."

"Car rides are good for fussy babies," replied the shopkeeper. "My son is three. It doesn't get easier."

Germany grunted and the baby made a contented sigh as she sucked on her dummy. Italy wandered back over again and laughed when the baby made a fuss at being shifted when Germany tried to hand her back to Italy. Germany grunted and straightened up again.

"Seems she wants to stay, Germany – why don't you give me the keys to the Volkswagen, then?" Italy laughed and Germany managed to swipe his card, input the pin number and shove his wallet back into the pockets of his pants with little struggle.

"You carry the box then," replied the German and watches as the Italian almost paled at the prospect of carting the pram out to the car. It certainly wasn't light.

"In retrospect…," Italy muttered and swiped Annaliese from his partner's shoulder. "Ludwig's big and muscled."

Germany sighed. Typical Italian.

* * *

When they got home for lunch, it was nice to see that Prussia had come home and was preparing sandwiches. Annaliese had fallen asleep in the car-ride, borderline grumpy and hungry, so Italy took her upstairs to the bassinette while Germany made a bottle for later and put away the groceries.

"Spain called this morning."

Germany turned to his brother. "What did he say?"

"Actually, it was Romano, and he only wanted to talk to Italy, so Spain spoke," said Prussia, cutting the sandwiches. "They'll be over at seven."

"Good," replied Germany, taking off his coat and hanging it by the door. Germouser was drinking from a small dish of milk Prussia had laid out for him.

"Berlitz fell into the fish pond this morning," Germany muttered.

"So I heard." Italy had wandered down from the bedroom at that point, squeezing past the packed pram that was resting in the hallway. "I'll spend some time training him in the afternoon. You'd better watch those dogs with the baby. Especially Berlitz."

"Hmm," Germany muttered. Germouser left the kitchen and settled in the den once again, where a fire was smouldering in the hearth. "You're right. She's only small though. The dog will be trained."

"So you're adopting? Or Italy? She's taken your last name, eh?"

Italy turned at that comment, and swallowed his sandwich. "Germany?"

"Legally, only one of us can adopt the baby," Germany explained.

"That's if you were to get 'married'," he used finger quotations. Italy shifted uncomfortably.

"Still, only one of us can adopt her," Italy said. "It's not different in Italy. In fact, we can't adopt her in Italy, so I suppose it has to be you, Ludwig."

"You can't even hyphenate her last name?" Prussia muttered, giving Italy a commiserating look.

Italy shook his head. "It's okay. I'll always be her Papa. It doesn't matter what it says on a piece of paper."

Germany sighed and bit into his sandwich. Italy was right. He'd have to adopt the child himself and he'd heard that to be an ordeal in itself. For a moment, he assessed his 'family' – his brother, an ex-nation and narcissist, his partner, a overly zealous, air-headed Italian man, Italy's brother: abusive and overly emotional, and Spain: carefree and loving but with a past dark enough to rival his own. And then Germany realised something that every parent realises at some point or another – there were issues with his past his daughter would potentially discover and ask him about.

"_Vati, why did you do the things you did? Didn't you care? Did you lose because you were bad guy?"_

Germany choked on his sandwich, making his brother and partner notice. He cleared his throat with a glass of water before excusing himself suddenly, the chair making a horrible scraping sound on the tiles.

Germany went to the bathroom and shut the door. When the basin filled up with cold water, he splashed it over his face and neck, panting before towelling it off and moving to sit on the closed toilet lid.

"Ludwig?" It was Italy. "Can I come in, are you all right? You left suddenly. You knocked over the chair."

Germany leant forward from the toilet and opened the door and Italy came in, closing it behind him.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," replied Germany.

"Is it about the adoption?" Italy asked.

"Nein," Germany shook his head. "That is all right," he shook his head. "I was just thinking when she gets older…," he sighed, rubbing his wet hair.

"What?"

Germany hesitated. "She'll ask about me."

"Eh?" Italy frowned. "What about you?"

"They teach it in schools now," Germany announced. "She'll ask why I did it. She'll ask why I didn't stop it. She'll think I'm a bad person." He shook his head.

Italy sighed and looked down at the hem of his shirt. "Germany has a lot of anxieties."

"Don't you?"

Italy chuckled a little. "Of course I do," he said gently. "I love her so much, but I can't adopt her. Not through my own government. No one would let me, unless I was married to a woman." He smoothed back Germany's hair. "But I love Germany, and it just so happened that Germany is a man, and I can't help that."

Italy felt himself be tugged forward by his partner and then felt Germany's damp hair press into the gut of his shirt. Italy sighed and weaved his fingers through his partner's hair.

"It will be all right, Ludwig," he smiled gently. "She's always going to ask questions. But Germany is so much more than his past. Everyone knows this. And you're not just Germany to her, you're her Vati, and my Luddy and it's all right, stop worrying so much."

Germany grunted against Italy's shirt.

"Germany is strong and has a good economy and there's no corruption of gangs of crime," Italy laughed. "And you make really good cars too!"

Germany managed what Italy knew was a laugh and shoved the smaller nation away. He opened the bathroom door and stepped out, letting Italy trail behind him.

"Ve, Germany!" called the Italian. "You have to say something nice about me, too! _Ludwig_!"

* * *

We made 100 reviews. Thank you so much to those people who take the time to review. I try to make the chapters a little longer - I usually aim for around 2,000 words. Thanks for sticking by me and coming back to read, it really means a lot to me. I realise I promised the dinner scene, but that's the next chapter! Apologies!

Please take the time to leave a review before you go!

~ Arlia'Devi


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen **

Germany was getting out of the shower when there was a knock on the door and a loud greeting between a Prussian and a Spaniard. He sighed and pulled on a jumper. Annaliese was resting in her cot. She seemed to like being left alone upstairs where it was quiet and no one disturbed her. There was a monitor attached to the bassinette and Germany kissed the baby's head before descending the stairs where it smelt of a rich, divine pasta sauce.

"¡_Hola_," greeted the ever-cheerful Spain. Beside him, dressed in a heavy overcoat, black jeans and a shirt was Italy's brother, Romano. He muttered a small hello and then kissed his brother on both cheeks and muttered a greeting to him. Romano followed his brother into the kitchen where there was a bottle of wine open.

"So," said Spain. "Where is my _sobrina_? I'm _Tio Antonio_ now, eh?"

"Upstairs sleeping," Germany said. "She'll wake up soon enough for a feed, then she'll go back to sleep again." Spain frowned and pouted as he poured a glass of wine.

They went into the kitchen and Germany opened a bottle of beer. The fridge was full of various beverages, including several brands of beer. He knew he needed them while dealing with Romano. This would be the first of many.

"So how is parenting, eh, Italy?" Spain asked. "It's not as easy as it looks, huh?"

"Wha – bastardo, what are you trying to say?" rebutted Romano.

"Nothing Romano, but you weren't exactly a dream to raise," teased Spain. "A little respect would have been nice, here and there."

"I'll show you respect," Romano muttered and gulped down his wine bitterly.

Italy's mobile phone buzzed suddenly and he answered it with a smile, having noticed the caller on the screen.

"Ciao Miss Hungary," he laughed. Germany shot a look to his brother and shook his head.

"Oh yes, you've heard right," Italy laughed. "Yes, she's a sweetheart! What are you doing now? Do you and Mr. Austria want to come around? We're having a dinner party, but I can always make more," he laughed into the phone. "Ah – just you then, that's all right. Okay, ciao bella!"

"Your doing?" Germany asked as he slinked past his brother. Prussia laughed as Germany went to turn down the heat on the stove. Italy, Romano and Spain had gone upstairs as quietly as they could – seemingly impatient to let sleeping babies lie.

"We have to be quiet," Italy giggled as they came to Germany's master bedroom. "If we wake her up, Germany won't be happy."

They slinked in and turned the light on. Romano not so subtly surveyed the room as they approached the bassinette. Spain could barely hide his great grin.

"Pretty girl is awake!" Italy announced finding their baby sitting in her bassinette quietly with wide, blue eyes. "Enjoying some quiet time, eh?"

Spain gushed as he peeked a look in the bassinette. "Oh she's so pretty! And so quiet!" Romano, who had finished going through the top drawer of Germany's tall boy and subsequently stolen a half-full bottle of lube (why was it only half full? He wasn't happy!), looked over Spain's shoulder at the baby. "I'm your Tio, ey _chica bonita_! And this is your _Zio _Lovino! Aw she's a cutie, Feliciano!"

"What's her name?" asked Romano.

Italy took the baby from the bassinette and held her gently. She was simply content – maybe a little hungry, but not dirty or tired.

"Do you want to hold her, Antonio?" Italy asked. Spain nodded and took the baby with nervous, yet excited fingers. "Her name is Annaliese Eleanora. Anna for short."

"Annaliese is a German name. She get that potato-eaters last name, too?" Romano spat. Spain gave him a look.

"He can adopt her in his country. I can't," replied Italy.

"Anna is an Italian name. So is Eleanora," replied Spain patiently. "But she's so pretty, and quiet. She must be good."

Italy nodded. "The best ever."

The doorbell rang again and the three, including the baby went downstairs. Spain seemed enamoured by the baby, like a clucky mother, loved touching and talking to Annaliese, and had her positioned on her shoulder in a cuddle. Germany noticed the baby was up and sighed.

"Feliciano-,"

"She was awake in her bassinette," Italy replied. "It's not my fault."

"She would have fallen back to sleep. If she's not crying, she doesn't need anything." Germany said patiently. He really didn't mind people seeing the baby, or holding her, it's just that he didn't want to be up in the early hours of the morning with an over-tired, over-stimulated and frustrated baby. He'd done that before and it wasn't fun.

"She's beautiful," said Spain. "She has that wonderful baby smell."

Italy went into the kitchen where Miss Hungary was talking with Prussia. They had been getting on better recently, and Italy noticed that Miss Hungary didn't have her frypan handy and was drinking one of her wines from her land. Miss Hungary made great wines from her vineyards and upon seeing Italy, embraced him and offered another bottle as a gift.

"Nice to see you, Feliciano, you look well," Hungary smiled and kissed Italy's cheeks.

"Ve, nice to see you, Miss Hungary," Italy embraced his old friend.

"Call me Elizaveta," insisted the woman. "Dinner smells lovely."

There was a disruption out in the den. Spain was yelling at Romano, and Romano was yelling at Germany and Germany was just trying to make sure no one distressed his daughter or, decidedly worse, dropped her on the floor. Romano awkwardly held Annaliese half draped over his shoulder. Italy laughed at his brother's flustered face. Germany urged the man to sit down and for once Romano did as the 'damn potato-eater' said.

Prussia and Hungary were talking to each other – Italy didn't really hear what was being said as he continued to work on dinner. There were snacks on the table – but it was approaching 7:30, and he planned to have dinner served by eight. The pasta, pre-made that afternoon, was boiling slowly in the pot.

Prussia cleared his throat when Italy began cutting up the onion and Hungary gave the man a poignant look.

"Go on."

"In a minute," Prussia insisted lowly.

Hungary sighed and went to the fridge to get Prussia another beer. Inside the fridge was a beautiful cake covered in a lid – it looked decadent, soft and moist, and had slithers of strawberries decorating the top.

"Did you make this, Feliciano? This cake?" asked Hungary.

Italy laughed. "No – Ludwig did. He loves baking cakes."

Prussia nodded. "It's his secret love: cake-baking."

Hungary laughed and opened Prussia's beer, handing it to him. "We have something we need to talk about with you, Feliciano."

Prussia coughed and sent a dirty look to Hungary, who was smirking. He really wasn't ready to do this – not even yet. He didn't know how Italy would react, and he really wasn't drunk enough yet. Not at all.

"Hungary and I…," Prussia hummed. Italy's eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open. He was also wielding quite a large kitchen knife, which was a little unnerving. "Are seeing each other."

"Like… dating?" The Italian asked.

"Um. Ja. Dating."

Italy looked to Hungary. "Is that true?"

"Yes," Hungary sighed. "What can I say? He's been asking me out for centuries."

Prussia scowled and Germany entered the kitchen again, having reclaimed his daughter back from her uncles.

"Ah, guten-tag Hungary," Germany greeted. Italy dropped the knife and smiled.

"I'm happy for you," he said finally, after letting the idea process. "Ve, Gilbert is a good guy… most of the time."

Hungary laughed and approached Germany, who was several head's taller than she.

"Oh what a beautiful baby – oh she looks just like you, Germany!" Miss Hungary laughed. "It brings back memories of when Italy was little." She looked to the Italian. "Can I give her all the old clothes you used to wear? I'm sure she'll look just as cute in them as you!"

Italy laughed, recalling the memory. Such a thing had caused him to be perceived as a girl during most of his time at Mr. Austria's house. Oh right, Hungary had divorced Mr. Austria a little while ago, so Italy supposed her relationship with Prussia was okay. He'd seen Prussia around Mr. Austria's house a lot when he was younger, but never really knew who he was or what he was doing there.

Dinner was served and there was enough pasta for everyone. Annaliese was placed in a rocker in the den as the adults ate and drank. Half way through the dinner she began to fuss at the lack of attention. She was also pretty hungry herself, so Italy made up a bottle while his friends and family finished dinner. Annaliese took the bottle greedily and Spain laughed at her enthusiasm. Germany, thankfully had someone else to talk to other than Romano – who more glared and made rude hand gestures than talked – and his brother and Hungary weren't bad company.

"Keep the bottle up, otherwise you'll let the air in," advised Spain sagely. "And then she'll burp and have gas."

"She looks like Germany," giggled Hungary, who not-surprisingly was sitting next to Prussia. Germany's brother looked as pleased-as-punch in his tipsy state. His cheeks were almost as red as his eyes.

Annaliese made a gurgling noise before she closed her eyes contently, sucking down the formula. Italy smiled and rocked her on his knee, patting her back soothingly.

"Germanyyy," Italy whined in a tone that Germany was all too familiar with. A wicked grin spread across the Italian's face. "I'm hungry. Feed me a bite?"

Prussia laughed.

"You can hold her and the bottle with one hand," retorted Germany. "Use the other to feed yourself."

"Ludwig, come on – just one mouthful."

The taller man sighed and picked up Italy's fork, twirling around some pasta and holding up the fork. "Stay still."

Of course, the German purposely missed Italy's mouth, making Spain fall over in laughter at the messy Italian's face. Even Romano cracked a grin at how his pansy brother huffed and cried at the mess. Hungary laughed at the way Germany wasn't at all sorry for making a mess all over Italy's face. Some of the pasta went into his mouth, but most of the sauce and onion and bacon bits were all over his chin and cheeks.

"So mean, Germany!" Italy pouted, rising up for the chair and stalking out of the kitchen. "Burp her. I hope she pukes on you."

Germany chuckled and rested his daughter on his shoulder before eating a little more. Italy went off to the downstairs powder room to wash his face and Romano filled up his glass again – the outspoken Italian was becoming less outspoken the drunker he got, and was becoming a little red in the face himself. Spain said something to him in Spanish, and Romano shot him a look and retorted something about, if Germany's Italian was correct, 'not being anything like a Spanish tomato'. Germany's Italian was good, but there were still some phrases that he didn't understand.

Annaliese nuzzled into her Vati's shirt and Germany felt the hot breath of his daughter on the collar. He went to shift her, but she began to get fussy at the loss of sensation, so he had no choice but to snuggle with her until she was content again.

Italy laughed and put the dishes in the dishwasher and revealed the cake that Germany had made that morning – the vanilla-strawberry sponge cake with cream filling. They laughed, they drank, they ate cake, but eventually Annaliese got tired of all the noise and the distraction and began to cry. Germany took her upstairs and back to bed again.

Italy took the chance to speak to Hungary when Prussia and Spain went out into the front yard to play in the snow – thin clothes on and all.

"Are you happy with Gilbert?" he asked Hungary, handing her a glass of fine Italian wine.

Hungary smiled. "He's makes me happy. I will always love Austria, but a different sort of love than I love Gilbert. You understand, don't you?"

Italy smiled a little, but didn't say anything. Hungary tried again.

"Gilbert and I have a past together," she laughed gently. "I fell in love with Austria, and we got married, but it didn't really work out. Maybe it was because I didn't know myself – not really. It's hard to explain, but Austria will always be a close love of mine."

"Miss Hungary… I still don't understand," admitted Italy. "I didn't even know… Prussia didn't even… this is all so confusing, I'm sorry Miss Hungary," he shook his head.

"I think I can explain it to you, Italy, so you'll understand," smiled Hungary and pushed a stray curl behind the Italian's hair. "Remember when you lived with Mr. Austria and I, in Holy Rome's house?"

Italy nodded. He'd always remember that.

"You loved Holy Rome," she smiled. "And he loved you. But the world changed, and you changed. Now you're with Ludwig and you have that beautiful baby girl, and it's so much different to your love with Holy Rome, isn't it?"

Italy nodded, finally understanding.

"And you would never leave Germany - not for Holy Rome, because the loves, even though they're still meaningful, they aren't the same."

"I would never leave Ludwig," Italy agreed. "I love him. I understand, Miss Hungary, thank you."

Unknown in the shadows of the staircase stood Germany, silently listening to the conversation taking place between the two old countries – Italy's confession of love and commitment and Hungary's sighs of happiness. Italy's confession of never leaving him, of his undying love for him over another rang in Germany's ears and when he did enter the room again, Italy, unknown he'd heard the entire conversation greeted him warmly. Germany smiled and pushed back his fringe, kissing him on the forehead and muttering German sweet words into his skin. Italy shrieked in laughter at the contact, feeling Germany smile against his forehead. Germany never showed affection in front of his friends and that fact made it even sweeter.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! This one was a little late so I apologise for that - it's the end of semester and I've got a lot of work to do.

So it was a nice little dinner for the 'family' - this weird Germanic, Italian, Eastern/Western European family these guys have got going on. Next time: Annaliese isn't feeling very well, and takes it out on her unsuspecting parents. I hope you enjoyed. Please take the time to leave a review before you go. They only take 30 seconds and they make my day. :)

See you next time!

~ Arlia'Devi


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